The Awful Truth of Suffering
by c.mary.c
Summary: Pain can be masked. Life can be celebrated. Art lives to disturb the comfortable, while comforting the disturbed. This is a story about art. A story about life, about hardships, about love. For what could show more passion, more devotion, more pain, and more resilience… than a tattoo?  -EdxWin AU, rated M- Complete
1. Chapter 1

Draw upon my body

The story of my life.

Tell the world my struggles;

Softening the strife.

Though our hearts be broken

We heal with every swipe,

And piece ourselves together;

-the pain being the price.

.C

* * *

—Afghanistan, 2011—

"There's no God. There can't be! How could he allow this?! How could he do this to Fullmetal!? Ed's not an asshole! He's a good person! He brushes his teeth and pays his taxes and holds open doors for people! How could GOD allow this to happen?!"

"Take a deep breath, Envy." Roy Mustang said, feeling just as angry and uncertain of the world as Envy took another swig from a vodka bottle and sobbed.

"How could God do this to Ed? First he takes his limbs and Hughes, his home and now _THIS?_ His whole fucking life just GONE?! He'll never be the same after this. _HE'LL NEVER BE THE SAME!"_

Envy put her head in her hands and cried as Mustang's hand squeezed his subordinate's shoulder. His brow furrowed, and a tear fell.

* * *

—New York City, 2015—

She stood outside the graffiti-covered door and glanced back at her phone to make sure Google maps wasn't messing with her. 27 Wooster St was were she was going, but she expected the destination to be a little more obvious. She glanced around and blue eyes settled on letters engraved in a bronze plaque on the cement-block wall:

 **ALCHEMY**

Shrugging her shoulders, she pulled open the door and scanned the list of doorbells before finding the one with the name matching the plaque outside, and pressed the button for the second floor. A few seconds later, a buzzer sounded and the stairway entrance clicked open. The pre-war building's hallway was muggy and hot, with old brown carpeting stretching to the back apartments and up the stairs. She ascended the stairs taking in the chips in the wall paint and feel of the solid wood banister under her fingers. When she reached the landing she was met with a single metal door, black and heavy looking with that word again, ALCHEMY, spray painted diagonally up the doorway. Her heart thumped nervously as her hand twisted the large silver knob, and she carefully pushed her way in.

Original wooden floors were dark and the boards narrow, much like the long-stretching room she entered. The walls were exposed brick, the ceiling was black, and the late July sunlight poured in from a massive front window. On her right were two beat up leather sofas flanking the large window and an ornate oriental rug on the floor that looked like it'd seen better days. The front desk jutted out from the wall to her left, an enormous and old baroque sideboard painted matte black with a macbook pro open on it's top and a small shelf mounted on the wall near it with several black three-ring binders. Sitting on a barstool behind the sideboard was a mousy woman in her 20's with large round glasses and short brown hair. Her eyes were fixed on the book she was reading and her arms were peppered with tattoos. Noticing she wasn't alone, she looked up from her book and smiled at her guest.

"Oh sorry! Didn't see you there, what can I do for you?" The bookworm with the brown hair said as she closed her novel.

"No worries, I have a 4:00 pm appointment."

The mousy woman who seemed to be a receptionist scanned an enormous open book that lied in front of her on the table top, her decorated finger sliding down the faint lines of the paper over scribbles of black ink and strips of white-out tape before coming to pause on one spot of the page's columns with a large 'X' over it.

"Are you the woman who consulted over the phone?" She asked looking up. Receiving a nod in return, the receptionist smiled and gestured to the couches.

"Make yourself at home. You're a little early, but that's alright. Your artist is just finishing up his lunch, I'll let him know you're here. Would you like some water?" She was given a friendly decline and was watched as she walked down the stretch of the room and disappeared through a door in the back, leaving the woman on the sofa alone with her thoughts. The previous three years had been long and tumultuous, and she'd wanted to do this for so long. The second the doctors and her lawyer had given her the ok, she ran into the nearest restroom to call the small tattoo parlor and consult with her artist on the phone, confirming her appointment.

Her eyes wandered over the shop taking in the gothic metal lighting sconces, wall paintings both large and small with intricate frames, the enormous antique mirrors with spots marring their edges that leaned up against a wall up front and one towards the back. The music playing was Metallica, the low buzzing in the background came from other patrons being worked on, and the numerous photos peppered throughout the shop's walls among the paintings were of famous clients pictured either alone or with their artist along with their scribbled messages of thanks. She noted they were mostly musicians, and most of the photos that were of more than one person had the same guy in the photo; no doubt the artist. They were all candid shots, either of him doing the tattoo or of them laughing while having a drink together. She rose from her spot on the sofa and crossed the narrow width of the room to more closely examine one framed photograph that caught her eye. A 4x6 in a gilded frame, with the same reoccuring man laughing with a wide grin and his arm slung around the shoulders of a smiling Lady Gaga.

"A mosquito on her ass." Said a voice behind her. She spun around and found herself staring at the face of the man in the photograph. He was dark blonde with slightly tanned flesh and possessed a friendly demeanor, along with the most beautiful golden eyes she'd ever seen.

"Sorry, what?" She said, suddenly remembering where she was. He stepped and looked at the photo as if he hadn't seen it in years.

"That's what she wanted. A big mosquito, like the illustrations of ones you'd find in old encyclopedias, in black ink on her left butt cheek. This was about a year ago." The woman blinked back at him and smiled nervously, amused by his story but unsure of what to say. He snapped out of it after a second or two and put the frame back in its place before turning to her.

"Are you my 4:00?"

"I'm not sure, I spoke to my artist on the phone a few days ago." She said. His face brightened a little and he put his hand out.

"You must be Winry. Good to meet you finally. I'm Edward Elric." Winry put her hand in his to shake it and noticed the way his black gloved hand felt abnormally solid under her fingers as she returned his greeting and he waved her to follow him toward the shop's rear. He stopped at a small alcove and sat at a desk-mounted lightbox situated between two walls.

"So, are we still doing what we talked about?" He asked, looking up at his new client. She was roughly about his age with long, buttery blonde hair and sapphire eyes. Her skin was creamy and pale, her nose was just barely freckled, her lips were pink and pouty. When Sheska had entered his office and said his next client was a 'young woman, really pretty' he'd rolled his eyes and dragged his feet assuming it was another basic college freshman who was 'living it up' and 'rebelling against mom and dad'. He hadn't realized his 4 pm was the same woman who he'd been communicating with via phone call for the past two weeks, and when she told him her reason for being there, he absolutely wasn't expecting her to be so …beautiful.

She nodded answering his question, and pulled out from her mini-backpack a folded piece of white paper with a very rough sketch on it, handing it to him.

"I was thinking of this for a concept, but I would love your input."

Ed's sharp golden eyes grew hard and assessing as he unfolded the paper and poured over the image.

"I've got some ideas. Are we still putting this on your back?" He asked. Winry nodded and he pointed to a booth across the way from the sketching table.

"I'll need to take a look at your back first, see what I'm working with y'know?" He told her as he stood and walked her over to the long, cushioned table in his booth. She nodded in understanding, her heart now pounding in fear of the moment she dreaded more than the feel of the needle on her skin. What if he looked at her and decided it couldn't be done? What if she was stuck being reminded forever? She shook the thoughts away and looked back at him.

"Right here?" Winry asked. She was incredibly self-conscious about her appearance these days, and it angered her when she thought about what made her that way. She never went to the beach because she didn't want anyone to see her in a bathing suit, she couldn't get dressed for a night out with her girlfriends who would borrow each other's shirts and swap outfits in front of them like they did in front of her, she hated every time even the doctors asked her to disrobe for their inspections of her. Now she was supposed to do it in public? Right in front of this stranger and then let him put his hands on her?

"Just remove your shirt and hold it to your chest so I can size up the area for the sketch." Ed explained. Winry took a breath and turned away from him, telling herself that this was fine. This was normal. She was okay. She pulled her straight, waist-length hair to fall over one shoulder before pulling her shirt over her head and off, but didn't peel it from her upper arms and pressed it to her chest instead. Adding to her uneasiness was the fact that she didn't wear a bra in preparation for her appointment. Edward watched Winry's shirt come off and when his gaze fell to her back his eyes widened. She had mentioned some scarring, he didn't realize it would be like this.

Long, vicious-looking lines marred her back in puckered, pink skin —as if some enormous wild animal had taken a swipe at her and gotten lucky. Suddenly he recalled the way her voice sounded on the phone, the shakiness and how it seemed like she was about to cry when she asked if a tattoo could cover scars. He ran a hand over his mouth as he thought how he would make this concept of hers fit her back so the scars would be diminished. He turned to dig in a nearby drawer and produced a marker.

"I'm gonna free hand the design directly on you, okay? It'll make it easier for me to map out what I'm planning."

Winry stayed silent, but nodded. Ed noticed how stiff she'd suddenly become, and something tugged in his chest. Each scar was the same length and went in the same direction, but were evenly spaced. They were too well placed to appear accidental, yet the lines were so jagged they couldn't possibly have been incisions from a surgery. He felt for her, and wondered what the hell could have made marks like these. He was determined to do whatever he could to bring her some peace as he set to work sketching out his plan for the outline. He finished several minutes later and told her she could put her shirt back on for a moment if she wanted, and she couldn't get it back on fast enough.

"Okay, so is this your first tattoo?" He asked.

"No." Winry replied.

"Good. So I don't have to tell you what this is gonna feel like." Edward said with a grin. "This session will be the outline, and I'll have Sheska book you to come back in a few weeks to fill it."

Winry's face fell instantly. "Come back? You mean we can't do it all today?"

"Afraid not. The outline will take a few hours and we'll be closing for the day once we're finished, plus I'm booked with clients for the next several days and you'll need a little time to heal between sessions. Don't worry though, everything will be fine." He watched her eyes fall and she suddenly looked like the saddest person in the world. "What is it?" He asked.

"…I just …I'm just dying to cover these things. I don't want anyone to see and I hate seeing them everyday."

"If theres any cancellations I'll call you and get you back in quickly." He compromised. "Are you ready?"

She nodded as he handed her a large white towel, and she knew it was time to ditch her shirt again. She glanced around the shop to make sure no one was looking as Ed sat on a rolling stool and began to lay down plastic cellophane on his sanitized work surface. She quickly yanked her shirt off completely and pulled the white towel to her front before sitting on the table. Ed immediately noticed the way she tried to curtain her hair down her back to cover herself, and a thought popped into his head as he removed the black nylon glove from his right hand. He was taking a risk exposing himself to a stranger given the controversial state of the nation, but she didn't seem like someone to be afraid of.

"Hey," He said turning back to face her. He held his right hand up to show her the gleaming steel that replaced flesh. "Nobody's perfect. You're safe here, okay?"

Automail prosthetics had completely revolutionized modern medicine and the way people coped with birth defects or devastating injuries. First invented in the early 1980's, the technology behind automail relied heavily on extensive knowledge not only of medicine but also mechanics; nerves in the human body were realigned and implanted into docking mechanisms or "ports" which were surgically attached to the body. These ports would become the point where an automail limb could be attached to the body. Limbs were designed and built from scratch by engineers same as the ports and were specially customized to be an appropriate size, shape, length, and weight to its owner. Masses of intricate wiring inside would be bolted over with planes of varying alloys of metal and could match as closely in sillouette to a natural extremity as a customer desired, depending on the talents of their engineer. A mechanized charge to the nerves planted in the port would pick up signals from the brain and allow the limb to move naturally, just as a flesh limb would. It was a fast-growing industry, financially propped up by the continuing conflict in the Middle East that so many American soldiers had been given first row seats to. To be a successful engineer in the automail industry took the brains, bedside manner, and strong stomach of a surgeon and fused it with the toughness, physical strength, and ability to wield power tools found in mechanics. Winry Rockbell possessed all these qualities in spades, and it made her one of the most accomplished and sought-after engineers in city.

Edward held his metal hand out to her to help her off the table, wondering what her reaction would be. She smiled at the sight of his long and strong-looking steel fingers and placed her hand in his.

Something changed, and they locked gazes for a moment as he held her hand in his and slowly stood from his seat to step a bit closer to her. His rational brain told him not to go there, and he shook himself out of the moment.

"I'll need you to straddle the chair and face the back of it." He said.

Something about hearing him tell her to straddle anything made her stomach flip. She followed his instructions and he took his place back on the rolling stool and pulled on some rubber gloves as he took out his equipment. Winry sat in silence, listening to the music in the shop and the buzzing from the booths near them, and started to feel a little calm again as she pressed her chest to the chair back.

"Thank you." She said. "For not being frightened by my scars." Little did she know that he was actually very alarmed by her markings, but not in the way she was thinking. He shrugged to feign indifference and replied,

"Thanks for not being afraid of my automail." She smiled again as she turned watched him prep what he needed before filling a little disposable cap with black ink from a larger bottle.

"Well, I wouldn't be very good at my job if I was afraid of automail," Winry said, finally feeling a bit like herself again. "I'm an engineer." Edward paused briefly in his movements of setting the brand new needle into his machine.

"No shit? Well, I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to get my arm looked at since my engineer moved to Seattle. The shoulder locks up sometimes when I move a certain way." She felt him wipe down her skin with something cold and wet before producing a plastic razor to shave the skin of any vellus hair. She stiffened slightly and bit back a gasp at the feel of the razor brushing along her skin.

"It could be an issue with your rotator plate." She hypothesized. "I'd be happy to take a look at it for you sometime. I work in a shop on the east side, near Houston and A."

"I'll look into that." He replied, finally prepared and he picked up his machine. "You ready?"

Winry nodded and pressed herself to the chair back again, leaning her cheek against the top metal rung. Edward pressed a hand flat to her back causing Winry to gasp out loud and flinch violently away from his touch. He sat motionless in surprise as his eyes turned to the long mirror running the length of the wall across from them and watched her vacant expression. Her eyes were blank for a moment before she blinked and shook her head, muttering a soft apology.

"Hey… we don't have to do this if you don't want to. You can just pay me for the equipment I opened and we'll call it a day. No hard feelings." Edward said softly, trying to figure out what had her so jumpy.

"No it's not that," She explained. "I want this, I need this. I promise I'll relax."

Edward told her to just breathe easy as he very carefully rested his free hand against her back to steady her, and she remained still as his machine buzzed to life.

"I'm gonna start with one small line to get you used to it. If you need to shift, sneeze, cough, anything, just tell me." He pressed the needle to her skin and slowly dragged it along the lines he'd drawn. Her brow furrowed from the pain but her tolerance level was higher these days. Once you've been through hell and come out the other side, nothing else would ever seem so bad. Being tattooed felt like the corner of a hot razor being stuck into your flesh and then dragged around over and over, but it was nothing compared to the pain she'd endured that resulted in the three, 10-inch gouges running down her back. Winry wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't for fear that if she did the images would come back with every pass of Ed's needle on her skin, so she looked across the space to the mirror and watched him.

He looked to be about 30, and stood a head taller than her 5'4 frame. His hair was long and dark blonde, but she wasn't sure just how long because it had been pulled into a messy bun and long, wild pieces fell framing his dark arched brows, his high cheek bones, his brilliant yellow eyes. He wore a long sleeve black tshirt with a loose neck that he'd pushed to his elbows, revealing one steel forearm and one of flesh, covered with intricate black ink. His shoulders were broad, his mouth was full and sculpted, and his hands looked strong as he lifted the needle to pass a paper towel over the excess ink. She couldn't deny that she found herself wanting to stare at him all day.

Edward's eyes focused sharply on the task at hand, only granting himself brief glances at her when he'd roll back for a moment to re-dip the needle or stretch his back and get comfortable. His initial shock from seeing scars had all but vanished now that she was presented in front of him with the skeleton of his art adorning her. Her porcelain skin was a treat to him as he took in her small but strong shoulders, the smooth muscles in her back from years as a mechanic lifting heavy limbs, the way it all taped down to her narrow waist before flaring out again in one of the best asses he'd seen in a while. Her modesty added to her appeal and a part of him felt guilty for appreciating that, because he had a feeling that her modesty didn't come from morals or standards so much as it came from extreme self-consciousness. She was beyond pretty, and Edward wondered if it was a case of body dysmorphia that ailed her, or perhaps a deeper reasoning for her extreme nervousness. If there was something she was afraid of, he didn't want to be the person who reminded her of it which was why he was determined to make this very important piece some of his best work yet. That was what he loved the most about his art form; it was a place of healing for people. It was a chance to remind someone of the good memories, or in this case, erase some of the bad. Nothing made him happier than easing someone's suffering with art. Tattoos helped people overcome the pain that life was constantly dealing.

They helped Ed deal with the torture of his own past everyday.

* * *

A/N: This story flooded to my brain because of an amazing fanart I stumbled across many months ago while I was still writing Nursing Wounds, and it quickly became a small-scale obsession of mine. I'm sorry it took me so long to crank this out, 3rd person is SO damn hard for me to write in and that's why I've been gone all summer. I really wanted to challenge myself when I drummed up this AU, and I wanted this story to have less humor because it's so angsty that my normal amounts of humor would soften the blow, so I wrote in a POV that I'm super uncomfortable with. Hopefully it worked.

In my typical fashion, I've already written most of this story so I'll be able to update more frequently, I only need to make smaller revisions (crossing T's, dotting I's) before future chapters can hit the web. I can't promise I'll be able to update every two or three days like I was doing for Perfect Blood, but I won't be leaving you guys hanging for more than a week or so between chapters.

Also, for anyone that doesn't know, I started a tumblr blog this summer for the purpose of staying in touch with you guys while away from this site. You can find the link to it in my bio.

I often stumble across fanarts, poems, and other things that remind me of key moments in my fics and this blog serves as a place to share those things as well as open up any discussion about my fics, seeing as I get a pleasantly surprising amount of private messages with questions about my stories. Basically I'm just a tumblr addict and this is another way for me to stay in contact with my amazing readers.

It feels great to be back, I'm beyond excited to finally share this work with you all and I can't wait to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading, there's more on the way.


	2. Chapter 2

The most beautiful stories

always start with wreckage.

-Jack London

* * *

Winry swallowed a few ibuprofen to help with the pain and ordered some sushi that night as she sat in her apartment alone. 3 hours was a long time to sit in one attitude while having someone drag a motorized needle across your body. Luckily, her artist made it as pleasant an experience as he could, and for that she was grateful. Ed was light-handed, and spoke with a soft strength that helped ground her when her nerves began to take over. She found him strangely comforting, and couldn't shake the image of his bright smile, that shaggy blonde hair, the look in his eyes when he first took her hand in his metal one. Even though she'd only seen a glimpse, she knew from the slightly stiff way he moved that his automail needed help. She craved the opportunity to see more of it, which was why she insisted he stop by her shop sometime that week for her to see what was causing his discomfort. It was the least she could do after he'd worked so diligently on her outline, walking her through his detailed plan for the final product and reassuring her when she saw the finished outline that she would love it when the piece was finished. It wasn't that she didn't see the promise in his abilities, Winry was just disappointed that she'd have to wait a few more weeks before it's completion. She'd already waited so long to cover up the ugly reminders of her pain.

Her phone rang, and she happily answered the call from her friend Rebecca.

*So how'd it go today?! Sorry again that I couldn't be there. It was a good thing I stayed home to study more because that test was a killer.* She said. Rebecca was a brilliant girl with wavy brown hair and endless moxie who went against her family's wishes to become a doctor and instead pursued her passion: engineering weapons for the military. She'd been best friends with Winry since high school.

"It went fine. I have to go back in a few weeks though. He couldn't finish it today." Winry said dejectedly.

*Who worked on you?*

Winry was flipping through options on Netflix and paused at the question, recalling the handsome face, the strong but careful hands, the soothing voice, and straightened up in her chair to attempt sounding casual. "Just some guy. Ed, I think."

*What? No way. Omigod that's the owner, is he as gorgeous in person as he is in the pictures?* Rebecca asked animatedly.

"What pictures?"

*The ones on the Yelp reviews. That place got 5 stars, its why I told you to go there. Answer the question, is he super hot?*

Winry rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes, okay? He was very attractive." She fought hard to stop blushing just thinking about him.

*You lucky bitch,* Rebecca laughed. *You get a custom piece from one of the best artists in the city, and get hours of one-on-one time with his fine ass while he puts his hands all over you. I hate you so much.*

Winry grinned and laughed along. "I wouldn't really say his hands were 'all over' me."

*Well, he probably wanted to cop a good feel just seeing you.*

"I doubt it. More than likely he took one look at me and wanted to run for the hills."

Rebecca fell quiet. *Winry, don't say that…*

"Why not? It's the truth." Winry responded, fighting down sudden irritation. "My body is a mess. He was very respectful and professional, but that doesn't mean he thought I was cute. Nobody looks at these things and wants to stick around."

*Shut up!* Her friend yelled back. *You're gorgeous. You always have been and you always will be! Stop beating yourself up Winry, I can't take it anymore. You've done this for 3 years, it's enough now. In a few weeks the scars will be covered and you'll have to go back to being a normal woman like everyone else, are you gonna be able to do that?!*

Rebecca adored Winry like a sister and would do anything to try and cheer her up, but she had grown tired of being a cheerleader for someone who didn't seem to be getting better, and it secretly killed her. She was terrified that even after the tattoo was finished that Winry still wouldn't be able to shake the lingering damage of what happened 3 years ago. She feared her friend would never trust anyone ever again, would never find love again, would never learn to be happy with herself. Winry gulped and picked at stray lint from the lap blanket she was under.

"I …I think so. I hope so."

*You better,* Rebecca warned. *Because I can't bear to see you like this anymore. I can't stomach seeing you hate yourself when you never did anything wrong. I just want my friend back, I want to see the girl who flirted with boys in high school, who took weekend trips to Fire Island with me in college and wore bikinis unabashedly. Remember when you got your automail apprenticeship? I wanna hang out with the girl who I bailed out of jail when she got so happy wasted she wound up streaking through Central Park. I miss that Winry! I miss that brave chick who took life by the balls.*

Winry began to tear up, fighting the lump in her throat when she recalled the care-free life that had been lost to her.

*I want my best friend back.* Rebecca said. *I haven't seen her in forever, and I hate that she was taken from me.*

* * *

The next morning Winry was awoken by waves of pain radiating through her back and shoulders; she had rolled over in her sleep. Sleeping on her stomach was a challenge that should would quickly need to conquer and she sat up in bed only to notice the worst headache she'd felt in a long time. She immediately settled back down on her stomach, deciding that her morning run would have to be skipped that day when the front door slammed loudly. Her awful roommate was home from wherever she'd been all night. Winry groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. She shared a tiny one-bedroom apartment on west 97th street with a girl who was 22, still didn't have a full-time job, and was living off the monthly allowance her rich parents gave her. Winry moved in with her out of desperation, needing to get away from where she was living before and therefore had set up her existence in the living room so the younger inhabitant could keep her bedroom.

Mostly Winry was alone in the apartment, Nellie only came and stayed briefly before running off again on another date or on lavish trip to the Caribbean with her rich friends, but when she was around was when Winry loathed her living situation the most. Nellie was careless. She came home late at night and made noise, she left dirty dishes and never cleaned them, she never bothered to let Winry know when she was coming or going. There were times when she'd bring men back the apartment and have loud sex, completely unnaffected by the knowledge that only a very thin wall seperated them from another person. Winry didn't hate her, but she was never very happy to see her either.

"Hey!" Nellie's voice piped out like a high-squeaking hinge. "It's your turn to clean the bathroom."

Winry sighed, not looking for a fight but pulled the pillow off her head to turn to Nellie.

"Would you mind taking care of it this time please? I'd do it but I'm feeling horrible right now, I think I have a cold or something."

Nellie looked as though someone had asked her to join the Taliban.

"Are you kidding? I'm never here. Why should I have to clean up your mess?! Why haven't you stayed on top of it?! My father pays an awful lot of money for us to live in this building and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate you letting mold grow in the tub."

God forbid the girl do something for someone else once in a while. Winry forced herself to roll out of bed despite her throbbing head and the chills wracking her body and shuffled to the bathroom. She had no intentions of cleaning it that day, she simply stood there behind the closed door and waiting for the moment the front door slammed, signaling her roommate's departure once again. Winry wasn't a slob by any stretch, however she was an incredibly hard-working and busy woman who came home most nights too exhausted to clean the house and she usually hired a service to do it. She hadn't had the cleaner come in two months because she was scraping together money for the tattoo she so desperately needed. She had resorted to skipping meals, selling most of her possessions and even digging in the couch cushions for spare change to save up the 600 dollars she gave Edward for her outline. He didn't know it, but she could've cried tears of joy when he handed 200 of it back to her with a smile saying how he was the owner so he didn't take tips. Now she had about a month to scrape together another 500 to finish the piece.

She stood in the bathroom and pulled her shirt off to examine her back in the mirror. It looked alright, it hadn't started itching quite yet but had the beginnings of scabs which she recalled him saying were normal and not to be touched. Winry was then presented with a new problem; how to clean it by herself. As she stood trying to work out the situation a new wave of aching pain rolled through her body and she instantly gave up, pulling her shirt back on as she shuffled back out of the bathroom and made a beeline for bed. She'd have to come back to the issue after a nap.

* * *

Hours later the front door slammed again and Nellie strutted in wearing a string bikini and high heels with a sarong slung low on her hips and a mai-tai clutched in her left claw. She'd been sunning herself on the rooftop with her friends and getting day-wasted yet again, and she loudly clacked her way to the bathroom. A scream followed by a loud shatter sent Winry flying up in bed only to wince in pain from her body aches and splitting head.

"You didn't clean the fucking bathroom!" Nellie screeched as she stormed back to Winry's bedside. "You stupid, lazy bitch! I can't believe what I put up with from you!"

Nellie would make a wonderful wife someday.

Winry rubbed sleep from her eyes and breathed hard to reduce her pounding heart. "I said I'm sick, I'll take care of it tonight okay?"

"That's not good enough! You've been laying here all goddamn day!" The wide-eyed brunette with the overly-large forehead yelled.

"You've been on the roof getting plastered in the sun all day." Winry bit. "I don't have the energy. I have a cold. But you've got all the time in the world since you spend your days shopping and drinking with your little trust-fund friends instead of working 60 hours a week like I do. I'll take care of the stupid bathroom, just get out of my face for awhile okay?! My whole body aches, my back is killing me—"

"Oh your back?" Nellie scoffed. "You expect me to sympathize with you because of something you did to yourself? You're not sick you're just bitching about a little back pain! Well I told you not to get that stupid tattoo, they're not pretty they're for criminals and you're never gonna get a real job with one."

"I _have_ a real job…" Winry quaked, feeling her face burn with fury.

"What, making robots all day? Stop fooling yourself, you barely make any money doing that work so how can it be a 'real job'? Automail is UNNATURAL. It isn't right for humans to have metal limbs, there are people who fashion them into guns! They're entering our school systems and workplaces with weapons attached to their bodies! I desperately hope they pass the A.R.A. and force those abominations to identify themselves, because they're a threat and you're just part of the problem. But you know what? I guess I can't expect rational thinking from a woman who's obsessed with 'fixing' people's broken bodies and thinks a hideous tattoo is gonna fix her own broken body."

Winry no longer felt control of herself. She didn't feel the muscles in her legs propel her out of bed. She didn't feel the wooden planks under her feet as she thundered across the room. She didn't feel her hand connect with Nellie's cheek until the slap rang out loud and clear. Time sped up, and before Winry was able to right her position after the follow-through, she felt a hard blow land directly between her shoulder blades and she screamed. She lost her footing and fell to the floor, only to feel her shirt pulled up and a second later the sharp sting of skin on skin as Nellie struck her healing flesh again, and again, and once more, Winry's screams reaching new heights with each blow. Her mind flashed dark, then only seeing the lighting striking outside the rain-pelted windows, no longer hearing Nellie's curses and only picking up the crashing thunder that shook the floor boards, her screams that no longer came from sharp stings and instead burst from torturous slices. Her tear-filled eyes blinked back to the sunlight pouring in the windows when the weight was dragged off her by a young man in a bathing suit, Raybans and Sperrys.

"Whoa girl!" He said laughing as he pulled the furious Nellie off of Winry. He grabbed her flailing arms to hold her still and grinned at her, kissing her cheek. "Save that energy for the bedroom, tiger. She's not worth it." He grabbed her ass, effectively distracting her and a second later they were both gone, leaving Winry alone again on the floor with her back crying out in agony and tears running down her face.

Just like that night 3 years ago.

* * *

A/N: It feels so great to be posting material again and hearing from you all. The response I got for the first chapter of this was thrilling and really revived me in ways that are hard to explain at the moment. For anyone curious about the fanart that inspired TATOS you can find it on my blog if its not showing up as the cover image. I tried a few times to upload it here, but from my end it doesn't appear very cooperative. On that note, I also have no idea if this story is posting to the site's page along with all the other stories of the world. I seem to only be able to see this story on my page or if I type it in the search, when usually a new upload would go to the first or second page of stories in the M rating. Let me know either here or on the blog if you guys can see the cover image and/or the story on a main page without having to come directly to my page.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Chapter 3 is on it's way.


	3. Chapter 3

He was unexpected.

I truly did not expect him

or his effect on me,

my heart,

my mind,

my feelings.

He was the calming sound

of the light, pitter-patter of drizzle

on an April Sunday morning

in my brutal, destructive hurricane.

(s.g)

* * *

Alchemy was a bustling bee-hive, the phone practically ringing off the hook and Sheska was up to her eyeballs. The energy was high, and nearly every booth was occupied. A white takeout carton of dumplings and some chopsticks assisted Edward as he stood at the front desk next to Sheska, answering the ringing phone for her so she could check in arriving clients and make sure everyone's appointments were running on schedule.

"Alchemy, this is Ed." He said after swallowing his food.

*Edward? Hi, it's Winry.* He stilled for a moment, not liking the way her voice tremored. *Do you have a second to talk?*

Edward looked around at the mild madness that was his studio and decided to lie.

"Yup. Absolutely. Let me call you back from my office, okay?" She agreed and he hung up.

"Where are you going?!" A frazzled Sheska yelled after him as he moved to walk away. "Your 11 o'clock consultation will be here any second, theres a line of people waiting to buy merch, a bunch of people are on hold with questions and I'm going slightly mad over here with all this craziness. I need you to answer calls please."

"I am answering a call, I just need to do it in my office. Two seconds, Sheska." He said as he strode to the back of the shop. Once shut in the quiet confines of his personal office he sat at the gaudy and gothic, black velvet-tufted high-back chair that Ville Valo gifted him and pulled out his cell phone. He leaned back with his boots up on his desk and two rings brought Winry's tired-sounding voice to his ear again.

*Hello?*

"Hey it's Ed. What's up?"

*It's my back,* She said wearily. Edward shot up straight. *It hurts a lot today. My roommate smacked it really hard yesterday.*

Ed's mouth fell open and he threw propriety out the window.

"What the fuck for?!" He hollered before silently telling himself to chill out. Anger pulsed in his chest knowing that the tattoo might've been ruined, especially after he'd worked so hard on it and seeing how badly Winry needed it.

*We had a fight and she hit me. She also smashed the only mirror in the house. I can't see my back and I'm worried she might've scratched it. She wears a lot of rings on her fingers.* Winry explained as she pushed down her own growing anger.

Edward closed his eyes and counted to five to calm himself, putting his head in his free hand. "Can you come by today?"

*Yea, I can do that. I'll come by later tonig—* Her sentence was cut off by a vicious, deep chested coughing spell. Edward straightened in alarm for the second time.

"Whoa, are you sick?" Winry coughing subsided a bit and she squeaked out weakly.

*Yeah. I've been feeling shitty all day.* Alarm bells rang in Edward's head.

"Yea you can't come here. Sorry, it's just you can't be sick in a tattoo shop. Bacteria, y'know?" He rapped a nearby pencil on the desk as he thought for a moment. "Tell you what, I'll be out of here tonight by 9, 10 at the latest. Can I come to you?"

Winry pondered his offer as she lied in bed, gripping her sheets as she weighed her options. Her roommate was gone and probably wouldn't be back that night, meaning she'd be alone, sick and vulnerable when this man came to her door. She wanted to decline and offer to come another day, but she feared the state of his work and her skin screamed from pain. She needed help.

"Um, yea that works. You don't mind coming uptown so late?"

"I don't mind if you don't mind." Edward said. He scribbled her address on a piece of paper and told her he'd text her that night when he was on his way.

* * *

The chiming of the doorbell roused Winry from sleep a few hours later, and she blinked awake and shuffled to the intercom to buzz Edward in as she pulled her throw around her shoulders. Uneven footsteps approached her front door a few moments later, followed by soft knocking. She mentally kicked herself for not checking her appearance first, but unhooked the safety chain and opened her door to Edward.

"Hi." He said, his sculptured mouth curled into a smart smirk. Ed's eyes poured over the sleepy disheveled mess in front of him, and he found Winry to be incredibly cute despite the dark circles curling under her eyes. She motioned him to enter and he handed her a brown paper bag.

"Chicken soup." He said. "You mentioned you weren't feeling well."

Winry gratefully took the parcel. "Thanks, that's really sweet of you," She said as she set it on the counter for later. "I appreciate you coming all the way up here."

Edward waved it off, saying how it was not that far and no big deal. Her apartment was small. Floors were wooden, walls were eggshell, curtains were white chiffon. Ed found himself liking the simple beauty of it, much like its resident. Her bed was perched on a modest metal frame, and the only feminine signs were the fresh flowers on the window sill, the teacup on her nightstand, the few pieces of makeup on one of the tables next to a wrench and some screws.

"I like your place." He said.

"Oh thanks but its not mine, I could never afford this. My roommate's dad pays for it."

He looked back at Winry over his shoulder, "Its nice. It suits you." They locked eyes in calm silence for a moment as they sized one another up, both a little nervous of what to come.

"Well, let's have a look." Edward said pulling on a rubber glove, and Winry nervously tucked her hair behind her ear and dropped her blanket as she turned, feeling him step to her and lift the back of her shirt. He would've enjoyed noticing her lack of a bra as he examined her tattoo if it weren't for the yellow bruises and large red welts puffing up across his work.

"Holy shit…" He said as he touched her furious skin with his finger tips. He knew from looking that it was worse than what she'd described; it was more than just a simple smack. But with a little TLC it would be alright because there wasn't any broken skin. "How many times have you washed this today?"

Winry cringed, knowing he wouldn't like her answer and she suddenly felt like a student who'd been caught cheating by the teacher.

"I haven't. I meant to this morning, but I haven't been able to get out of bed until now." Ed dropped her shirt and she turned back to face him. "I'm worried about the water pressure in the shower, its a little intense. What should I do?"

"Use a clean, soapy washcloth and wring it out above the back of your shoulders so the soap runs down, then rinse the same way." He said. He tried valiantly to not picture those soap suds sliding down her wet skin, and failed miserably, imagining himself tracing the water's path with his tongue.

"And what do I do about putting ointment on it? I can't ask my roommate for help now." Winry knew what was coming next, and even though it was hard for her to remove her shirt in front of him at the shop, one would think it'd be easier in her own home. But it was far more nerve-wracking, because they were alone, and he was incredibly …intriguing.

Winry moved to sit on the bed so Edward could put Aquafor on her, but he stopped her with a soft touch to the shoulder.

"We need to wash that first," he said. "You have a massive cut in your back and now a cold to go with it. If you don't wash it throughout the day you could get an infection. I don't mind waiting for you to take a shower." Winry was about to agree, but was honestly so exhausted that a shower seemed daunting to say the least. He could read the exhaustion on her face.

"Point me towards a washcloth, I have another idea." He said. Winry directed him to the small closet in the bathroom and Ed found what he needed along with some soap, and he went to the kitchen and filled a large bowl with warm water before walking back to her bedside with it.

"Shirt off, lady." He said with a wink, trying to lift the awkwardness and make her feel comfortable. Winry pulled the shirt over her head and held it to her front as she shifted to lie in bed on her stomach. Edward moved to grab a roll of paper towels and settled on the mattress next to her before pulling a new set of rubber gloves on his hands.

"Ready?" He asked, and she nodded as he smoothed his now wet and soapy hands gently over her back, taking care to clean the cut without hurting her. Winry only sucked a breath in for a moment, unsure if it was the warmth of the water or the feel of his hands on her that elicited the reaction. After a minute or so he soaked the washcloth in the warm water and rung it out thoroughly before dabbing it over her back slowly to absorb the soap. The warmth was heavenly, the best thing she'd felt in a long time, and a soft sigh slipped out from her lips.

It was back again. The nagging urge to drag his tongue over her skin. Ed gulped and exhaled, trying to push out the thought and concentrated on tattoos and baseball for a moment before his pants became tighter. After drying Winry's skin with a paper towel he took the Aquafor and applied a paper thin layer, working slowly in small sections to avoid rubbing her skin to harshly. It took longer than usual and she fought to suppress a blissful moan as his warm fingers smoothed over her sensitive back. Winry no longer cared that he could likely feel her heart racing under his hands, and she no longer cared about not feeling well. She was a fool to try and convince herself she wasn't attracted to Ed -his boyish charm and sun-kissed beach bum good looks made it very hard to not want him around. And the fact that he was taking care of her like this? It had been a very long time since Winry had felt cared for by anyone.

Ed was slightly disappointed when he'd finished his task, and discarded his gloves in a nearby trashcan.

"Finished." He breathed. Winry moved to sit up carefully, pulling her hair to the side to fall over her shoulder and looked back at Ed while still clutching her shirt to her chest.

"Thank you." She said, somewhat breathless herself.

"Anytime."

Edward meant it. He was immensely curious about Winry and would take any excuse he could get to run his hands over her skin. He couldn't wait for her next appointment. As desperately as he wanted to find a reason to stay, he could see her fighting against heavy eyelids and stood to pull her bedsheets back for her to scoot under.

"I'll see myself out." He said, and as she settled on her stomach with her head on the pillow, Winry's eyes travelled up to find him suddenly kneeling as he pulled her sheets around her, hovering close over her pretty face.

"It was nice of you to come." She murmured softly, rendered immobile when his warm fingers slid across her nape, pushing an escaping tendril off her back and his hand lingered. Winry felt his warm breath soothed across her skin, and her usual mental warnings to stay away from men quickly silenced as blue eyes poured into gold.

"Could you …come again?" She whispered bravely. Ed's words caught in his throat as Winry lifted herself onto elbows and he sank toward her, his face close to hers as his thumb brushed her cheek.

He would come again. He would be there everyday if she asked, despite his mind shouting repeatedly to defect. His gaze fell to her mouth, and he inched toward her lips.

"Tomorrow."

Suspended in hypnotic trance, she nodded in fractional movement, desperately wanting to feel his lips on hers but terrified all the same. Winry couldn't close the distance, she couldn't give in ...even though she wanted to. Her heart hammered, her head became light.

His vibrating cell phone broke the silence.

Edward mentally unleashed a string of curses before dropping his hand from her to pull his phone from his back pocket as Winry pulled her shirt tighter to her naked chest and pressed her cheek to her pillow once more. Ed paused staring at the screen as he debated whether or not to get it, and wound up caving.

"I don't have time for this." He answered in a clipped manner as he stood to go, but not before looking back at the half naked woman in bed who had captured his attention like no one before. Winry reached toward her nightstand and grabbed a folded twenty, holding it out to him but he shook his head, declining. He listened to the caller babble into the phone as he took Winry's hand in his own and raised to his mouth.

He mouthed silently that he would see her tomorrow, and pressed his lips to her knuckles before turning and walking out the door.

* * *

Ed arrived back at the shop late that night and sluggishly dragged himself up the steps in the shop's rear to a red door at the top, leading into the loft. It was originally attic space and it became his modest living quarters. The room was small but comfortable, with one window surrounded by a wall he painted with chalkboard paint so when new ideas struck him in the middle of the night he wasn't far from a sketching surface. The remaining walls and ceiling stayed exposed wood, which made it hot in the summer and chilly in the winter, but livable. He didn't need much; a small closet for him to stack clothes in and a desk to draw at. His bed was a mattress on the floor and he had an old club chair from Salvation Army in the corner of the room. Rent for the studio was ghastly so he couldn't afford an apartment, and in truth he liked living above his place of work. No commute, and he could always keep an eye on things even if he wasn't in the shop.

As Ed closed the door behind him and leaned back against it he sighed. There was something he found very sexy about his client and it wasn't just her beautiful face. He found himself liking her far more than he should. Sure, there had been times in the past when he'd been attracted to pretty girls who came in for trendy little pieces that didn't inspire but helped pay the rent, and he'd entertain the flirtatious eye-batting they gave him and agree to an after-work drink. Sometimes it resulted in some fantastic casual sex, but he wouldn't allow anything to become serious. Not with a customer, and especially not with a returning client, which was the exact reason why Winry Rockbell made him nervous. She was sweet, she was smart, she was beautiful, and he found himself feeling extremely protective of her. He wanted her around, and that wasn't good.

Edward tried hard to not shit where he ate, it was why he couldn't afford an extra rent because he paid his artists high commissions. Happy employees meant happy clients, and good energy was essential for productivity in a business. That's why he only fooled around with women who weren't getting tattoos for passionate reasons, because he knew they most likely wouldn't be back.

It was midnight, and normally he'd stay up til around 2 drawing, but tonight he was exhausted. Talking to his ex-wife was always exhausting, because she wasn't well and refused to help herself even though she knew better. Her lies and her inability to put the bottle down was the reason their marriage ended, but it was cupcakes compared to the tragedy that would follow months after and continue to haunt Ed for the rest of his life.

He didn't know why she kept calling. Sure, she was calling because she was drunk again but WHY was she calling? That was the question he always asked himself. What could he do for her that he hadn't already tried and failed at? He couldn't continue to love her through her illness, not when she was sleeping with other men. Not when the drinking turned into using. Not when she lied to him while he was deployed overseas.

Trusting people had become difficult after that. Damn near impossible after the night his whole world came crashing down. He saw the same inability to trust others in Winry. She was nervous around him, but not in the same way women usually were because they found him attractive. There was something else there. He felt it when he first touched her back, the way she jerked away from him as though he'd burned her. The memory of her ashen face sat in his stomach like lead, and he wanted badly to be a source of comfort for her because that was what he was used to being for his clients. He took pride in being the person his clients opened up to about their past pains and what their tattoos would mean for them. To know that a client was afraid of him, that his touch made her revisit her fears, it made him want to turn around and run back to her as fast as possible to reassure her she had no reason to fear him.

Edward shed his clothes and crawled onto his mattress on the floor before shaking loose his long hair and pulling the large quilt over himself. A sigh escaped him as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to know Winry's fear so he could rid her of it. He wanted to know her pain so he could alleviate her suffering.

He'd already started to break all his rules for the strange and beautiful woman who looked at him like she wanted to break all of her rules too.

* * *

A/N: thank you all for your lovely reviews, I can't tell you how it great it makes me feel to receive feedback and hear how excited you all are about this story. I've been dying to share it with you and I'm so happy I finally get to!

On a side note, an incredible reader whom I know on tumblr as Vivunas has been assembling images directly reminiscent of Perfect Blood and Atelophobia, and I'm basically screaming with excitement over here because THEY ARE AWESOME. I've done a couple that are a similar concept to better convey the imagery I see in my head when I write the PB universe, and for anyone who hasn't seen you should head over to my tumblr (url is in my bio) and check out what Vivunas has done because its fantastic.

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. More soon.


	4. Chapter 4

When I first met her I knew in a moment

I would have to spend the next few days

re-arranging my mind so there'd be room

for her to stay.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

* * *

Garfiel's Automail was rustic and utilitarian like most automail shops, but what made it special was the smiling face of the woman Edward came to see. A few days had passed since the night he'd gone to her apartment, and he was dissapointed when she'd called the following day telling him not to come back to clean her tattoo, saying she'd found a way to care for it herself and didn't want to be a burden to him. What lifted his spirits was when she insisted he venture away from Soho and come to Alphabet City so she could examine his automail arm. Opting to take advantage of the late evening's warm weather, Ed took a long walk across town past the small businesses, restaurants, and gastropubs until he reached the corner of East Houston St. and Avenue A. Ed entered the shop as a few patrons were leaving with their arms and legs shining like new, the smell of oil and grease filling his senses, and a young woman with mocha skin and brown hair slicked back stood at the front counter; her eyes went slightly wide at the sight of Edward.

"Hi, how are you?" She greeted, taking in the pony-tailed long hair, tattoos, and 5 o'clock shadow that made up his rugged and handsome exterior.

"I'm well thanks, does Winry work here?"

The dark-skinned girl smiled.

"Another member of the Rockbell fan club. I don't blame you, she's kind of amazing. We're closing up soon though, did you have an appointment?"

"No, she said I could just stop in?" Ed asked a little nervously. The girl nodded in understanding and waved him to follow her.

"Come on, she's back here." He noticed then the clanking of metal on cement floors; her metal feet were bare. As he followed her behind the front counter and through an arched doorway, they walked down a hall with doors flanking either side, stopping when the hallway opened up to a large garage with arms, legs, hands, and feet of all different sizes lining the walls. Silver tables gleamed under low-hanging work lamps and in the far corner on a stool sat Winry Rockbell using a blowtorch on a few panels of metal.

"You've got a visitor!" Her co-worker yelled from their place about 40 feet away, and Winry stopped to turn. Setting her project down she stood to pull off her gloves and pushed her welding mask up as she walked over. Blue eyes met gold, and they both smiled.

"Hi." She breathed. "Thanks for coming out so late."

"Are you kidding? Thanks for agreeing to see me. I can never find time to see someone during normal hours, you're a life saver." Edward and Winry looked at each other for another quiet beat, before Winry turned to her friend.

"Thanks for staying late with me Paninya, this will only be a few minutes." Paninya nodded and shot her friend a sly look; she wondered if Winry might have a thing for this guy, and she would do anything in her power to help a seed grow as long as he wasn't a jerk. She just wanted to see Winry happy again, and turned to strut back up the hallway, leaving them alone in the garage together.

"Come in, have a seat." Winry said, not thinking in all her excitement as she grabbed Ed's metal hand and pulled him along to her workspace. "Lets have a look."

Ed's face slid into a cocky smirk. "Can't wait to get my shirt off huh?"

He grinned like a cheshire cat at his joke and she stood with a hand on hip, waiting for him to stop being sarcastic. Something about seeing her mildly annoyed with him was cute. The grey zip-up jumpsuit Winry wore with her blonde hair up in a long ponytail only added to her charm, and Ed wanted to very slowly pull that zipper down the front of her, over every arch and valley of her lean and shapely body.

He wanted to pull that zipper down with his teeth.

Rejoining the present, Edward reached behind his head to grab the neck of his faded black shirt and pulled it over his head and off. Nothing made him mentally fluff his feathers like a proud peacock more than the look on Winry's face when she saw him shirtless. He liked working out. He ran 2 miles every morning before opening the shop and worked out in his loft for an hour most nights, because he liked pizza a lot. He also liked the look on women's faces when they saw smooth skin, lean muscle, and washboard abdominals. Winry's reaction wasn't nearly as dramatic as the ones he'd gotten in the past, but her eyes widened a fraction and drank him in quickly, lingering just a little longer than they should before she turned away and curled a strand of hair around her ear. She was nervous again, but this time it was the kind of nervous Ed liked.

Winry had to tell herself to chill out considerably as she pulled on her black work gloves and grabbed a screwdriver. Her heart leapt into her throat only to be swallowed back down hard when that shirt of his came off. First it was the whiff of earthy, man smell that blew past her as his shirt breezed over his head, then it was that body that she knew was hiding under there judging by the strong build of his flesh arm and shoulder, and lastly it was the split second that her eyes landed on his face again afterward and the soft and smart smirk he wore. His eyes were sharp but kind, and he bit his lip only slightly having enough decency to try looking at least a little bit bashful. It only made him more charming.

Winry repressed the urge to start fanning herself with her hand; it had suddenly become sweltering in the garage and without thinking she pulled the zipper on her jumpsuit down to fall between her breasts before turning back to Ed after finding what she needed.

"Okay sit please." She said, gesturing him to a chair so she could stand next to him and examine his shoulder from above. She began tinkering with screws and pulling plates loose to get to where she needed to be, and after a few minutes reached her destination at the base of his right arm's socket.

"Yup, that's the problem." She said. "You've got a fair amount of rust accumulating where your arm and shoulder connect. It's creating drag. I can fix it, but I'll need to remove the arm to do it."

Ed hung his head with a loud sigh. It had been years since he'd had his automail detached, and having it docked was beyond painfull. The only thing that would make the experience even slightly more enjoyable was if she wore that jumpsuit again, and absent-mindedly unzipped it down a little too far again, and gave him a nice show of the sweat sliding down between her cleavage again. He donned a distraught look to cover for the images flashing in his mind's eye.

"I know." She said, reading the misery on his face. "But I promise to do it quick. Like a band-aid. We'll set you an appointment." He sighed again and acquiesced, knowing there was no other way. It was his own fault for not taking care of himself properly.

* * *

Winry turned and locked the shop door behind her before wishing Paninya goodnight and watching her trot away. She turned back to Edward.

"Which way you heading?" She asked.

"Lower West." He replied. He wasn't ready just yet to divulge where he was going, but he was curious to know where her next stop would be. "You?"

"Upper West." She said. Winry picked up her small backpack and shouldered it before wincing in pain a second later. She'd forgotten all about the healing outline on her back, and her bag had bumped it just a little too roughly.

"How's that doing?" Ed asked, as they started walking together to head West again. "Has it started itching yet? Whatever you do, don't scratch it."

"It's alright. I've gotten better at taking care of it myself since I can't ask my roommate for help. It hasn't itched too badly yet." They walked for several more blocks, finding it all too easy to fill the silence with small talk and before they knew it they'd reached the blue line.

"So I'll see you later this week." Winry said in reference to his appointment. Ed grimaced comically.

"Let the torture commence."

She smiled at his morbid joke before digging for her metro card in her pocket. When she claimed her prize she looked back at him, noticing the way his gold eyes seemed to shine through the dark like fireflies. It was difficult to tear her gaze away from them but she forced herself to, reminding herself not to fall prey to his charms the way she'd nearly done the other night at her apartment. She had to distance herself -for both their sakes, but it felt too impersonal to simply wave goodbye or shake hands. Ed sensed the moment and was tempted to hug her, but was worried that she'd tense up from being touched that way, so before Winry could move he leaned in and gave her cheek a friendly peck.

"Get home safe, Rockbell." Edward said as he watched her descend the stairs, and when she was out of his sight an intense squeezing on his heart flatted his hand to his chest and he scowled at the ominous feeling. He wouldn't know it, but it was the same thing that caused Winry to walk toward the train more quickly than usual, breathing deep to calm her rising fear with her fingertips lingering on the spot that his lips had grazed.

* * *

20 minutes and several avenues later found Edward walking down stone steps and entering a dark, underground dive bar known as The Devil's Nest. An old friend of his who tattooed at Alchemy part-time owned it, and it was Ed's favorite watering hole. Edward only took very brief notice of the pretty girls he passed as he entered and made a beeline for a seat at the bar; it was steady but fairly calm and he preferred bars to be that way. He hated clubs because the deafening heavy bass and the flashing lights made him relive his days in Afghanistan, and the all-too-familiar scene of drunken couples fighting reminded him of the nights he'd spent having screaming matches with his sauced former wife.

Ed sat at the bar with a scotch and doodled on his bar napkin like usual until his old friend appeared from a doorway behind the bar carrying a few bottles to stock while traffic was relatively calm. Black eyes perked up at the sight of Edward scribbling drawings.

"Where the hell've _you_ been? Way to drop off the radar you dick."

Ed's mouth curled into a grin as he looked up. It had been several months since he'd seen the 32 year-old but he looked the same as he always had; spiky black hair, piercings, and the tattoo on his hand Ed had given him once their tours of duty were complete. He was an avaricious soldier, borderline obsessed with having the highest kill count of his squadron and was utterly fixated on getting what he wanted -a mission accomplished. He was strange, a little crazy even, but you definitely wanted him in your fox hole when shit went down. He'd earned the nickname 'Greed' while at war.

"I've been busy." Edward said with a shrug, knowing that feigning indifference would irritate his friend. Greed was unamused.

"Yea well it's not like I was waiting for you. Don't think I ordered the Lagavulin just for you or anything." He said as he ducked under the bar and produced a sealed bottle of his old commander's favorite single malt scotch.

"Whoa. Okay I'll come around more often." Edward said with wide eyes as he took the bottle. "How's life? Things good with Martel?" This earned some eye rolling along with a head shake.

"We had a fight and she's back at her moms house again. The womans crazy and she's taking me right along with her. " Greed said as he topped off Ed's glass and poured some for himself.

Ed raised his glass to clink against his friend's. "Join the club."

"I know I don't need to talk to you about crazy women."

Ed watched the scotch settle in his glass as Greed asked him how many years it had been.

"4." He answered, fighting down the anger burning in his chest.

"Have you heard from Noah?"

It was Ed's turn to roll his eyes. "She called me the other night, so fucking hammered she didn't realize what day it was. Thought she was calling me on her birthday like every year. You know she's called me three times this year because 'it's her birthday today'?. That's how gone she is, and now she's calling me during work."

"Jesus." Greed sighed, and leaned with elbows on the bar. "I wish I could help."

Ed shrugged and took another sip of his scotch, savoring the burn.

"Talking helps, I just feel bad for you having to listen to me go on about this when you've got your own shit to deal with."

Greed balked at him. "Are you kidding? The worst I'm dealing with is my irrational old lady freaking out every time she's on the rag and leaving, only to come back a week later. Compared to you, I ain't got problems pal."

Edward gave him a sad smile, resting his chin in his metal hand. Greed took notice.

"You forget a glove? I have one in the back if you need it." He offered. Automail had been around for many years, and only became controversial when engineers began modifying limbs to carry concealable weapons. Congress was being presented with a bill that if turned into law would require any person possessing automail to officially register with the government, but because of the prejudices and even outright violence that many automail carriers had been victim to over previous years, most were reluctant to reveal themselves.

Edward waved off his offer. "Thanks, but I'm okay. Heading home after this."

"You've been out all night exposed? You've got a deathwish buddy."

"Nah, I came here from seeing a client. She's gonna give me a tuneup."

"You found an engineer in a client? Lucky break. How'd you get her to see you so late?"

"Well, she was returning a favor. I made a house call to clean her tattoo the other night." Images of the evening flashed through Ed's mind. The welts marring the ink lines over her scars, the feel of her warm back under his hands, how pretty she was, stuffy red nose and all. His thoughts were broken by his friend wagging his dark, pierced eyebrows at him.

"A house call huh?"

"It's not like that."

"Sure it's not. Spill, is she a freak?"

"She's a client." Edward snapped a little too quickly. He relaxed a moment later, knowing Greed wasn't an idiot. "...There's something with her. I'm being very careful around her, she's …off."

Greed's questioning look made Ed continue. "She's got these scars, big scary things. They're really fucking bad. I'm covering them for her, but I swear every time I touch her she jumps out of her skin. I've never met anyone more self conscious about appearances, not that I blame her, they're pretty frightening."

"Damn, that sucks. She a hag?"

Ed shot Greed a disciplinary look and Greed shrank back. "What? I'm just asking, you said she had scars."

"They're on her back and she's not a hag, she's beautiful."

Greed's hand stopped as his glass was on its way to his mouth.

"Woahhhh, beautiful? You've got a thing for this broad."

"No I don't."

"Yeah you do." Said greed with a sly grin. "You _like_ her."

"I don't get involved with clients."

"You sleep with dumb girls all the time."

"Don't get _involved_ with them." Stressed Ed. Greed raised his brows.

"So you admit it then, you actually like her. Enough to have to tell yourself not to go there." Edward paused, unsure of how to respond and Greed pressed on.

"I don't know why you avoid any possibility of finding someone." Greed put his hands up in defense when Ed shot him an icy glare. "I'm not being a dick, I'm just saying stop torturing yourself already. You're not gonna get dealt the same cards again."

"You don't know that." He glowered as Greed moved to the tap to serve someone a Blue Moon.

"Highly improbable, Ed. Don't deprive yourself of your basic rights as a man, have some fun." Said Greed.

"You consider sex a basic right?"

"You don't?"

Ed shook his head and sipped his scotch. "She's not a 'have some fun' kind of girl. Something's with her."

"You think she's nuts?"

Ed thought for a moment and his eyes connected with Greed's.

"Maybe. She's skittish, but not from shyness. If I had to guess, I'd say she's afraid of something."

* * *

Ed left The Devil's Nest an hour later and began heading home. Head down, hands in his jacket pockets, he felt the pavement under his boots as he thudded along and turned left from Houston St onto Wooster. Ed usually avoided walking this block and would go out of his way to keep himself from it, but that night his tipsy and self-loathing subconcious propelled his heavy, mis-matched legs toward the plot of land he feared most. It was late and the gates were locked for the evening, but he didn't need access to obtain full view of the source of his sleepless nights. It used to be the nightmares were memories of his dying mother or the father who never wanted him. After those fell away the midnight terrors were images of war, watching one of his best friends die, watching the light fade from the eyes of the enemies he'd killed, or of learning of his wife's infidelity and the thought of her in bed with … _him_. But nothing affected him worse than what had plagued his thoughts for the last four years. He feared sleep, because when he closed his eyes he saw her. Her happy eyes, her bright smile. He heard her singing, he heard her laughing.

He heard her screaming.

The wrought iron gates were cool to touch, and his forehead rested on a black bar as Ed gazed through the spaces between, golden eyes settling on the grey stone only a handful of yards away. He breathed out and closed his eyes as a tear fell.

"Happy Birthday, baby."

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing, it makes my day like you wouldn't believe. More on the way!


	5. Chapter 5

What causes night in our souls

may leave stars.

-Victor Hugo

* * *

A couple weeks passed and found Winry walking home alone at night after work with anxiety, her earbuds left in her jumpsuit pocket so she could tune her ears to everything around her. Every couple of blocks she passed would have her looking over her shoulder as she sped walked her way across town to the E train. It was the weekend, and the F train she usually took home wasn't running due to construction underground. As she walked down Houston street she breathed steady, telling herself to stop being paranoid. But her heart sank to her feet like an anchor in the ocean when she thought of the phone call she'd gotten several days prior. She'd been sitting on one of the leather couches at Alchemy, waiting for Ed. Her back had healed quickly and he called her telling of a cancellation in his schedule and that she could come in to finish the piece if she wanted, but when Edward emerged from his office and made his way to the storefront to greet her his expression fell upon seeing her on her phone, her eyes wide and fearful.

"I'm so sorry." She said to Edward as she rose and put her phone back in her pocket. "I have to cancel, I have an emergency."

Edward noted her shaking hands, her trembling mouth, the way she tried to hold herself together.

"Are you okay?" He asked, suppressing the urge to reach for her hand. She nodded in response and turned to leave, only pausing for a moment before continuing out the door and down the stairs as she bit her lip in worry. She felt exposed and unprotected, and leaving the building where Edward was only made her even more fearful, but she couldn't stay for her session. Not when she could barely hold back the furious tears.

Gravel crunched under her boots as Winry walked quickly, taking note of every face that passed her, being sure they weren't the once face she feared the most. She owed Edward an apology for leaving the way she did, and probably a kill fee along with it. She also had to reschedule his appointment to fix his arm due to her raging anxiety attacks. Edward had become something she hadn't expected. She was both fascinated yet frightened of him, of what she believed he could do to her, of what he'd already done to her without his knowledge. She liked being around him. He was the first man she was comfortable being alone with in years, and she suspected his willingness to cater to her didn't come solely from exemplary customer service. There was an energy when they were together. Something nervous and yearning. Something careful but curious. She loved every moment of the consultation on his arm, and secretly took more time than usual to drag out an extra few minutes with him as long as he wasn't in pain. His pretty eyes, sweet demeanor, and calmness made her want to be close to him, and his beautiful face and even more beautiful body activated something within her she'd all but forgotten about.

For the first time in years, she wanted to be touched.

The screech of metal against metal behind her stopped her thoughts and she turned, finding no one behind her on the quiet street except for a homeless person sleeping on a nearby bench. Winry turned and kept walking when the screeching continued, following by the familiar whir of mechanics in motion. These were sounds found in automail garages, not out on a public street. Her eyes scanned the area, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until a gleam of metal caught her eye from the shadows of the church cemetery on the corner of Houston and Wooster. Metal cried against metal again, this time earning a few sparks before a dark figure moved in the night. Winry kept walking, and few moments later heard the same scraping metal from before. Her heartrate sped, and she frantically thought of what to do. There were no cabs in sight, the street was uncommonly quiet and the subway was still several blocks away. She needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere familiar. Suddenly her phone chimed with a text message from a number she didn't recognize.

*You better be wearing that tight jumpsuit for me. I'm watching you.*

Winry's heart leapt into her throat and she fought to remain calm. She turned down Wooster and kept walking a steady pace, and called the only person she thought might be awake.

* * *

Edward was roused from sleep by the buzzing of his phone vibrating across wooden floors. He would've silenced it had been any other caller, but sat up groggy and rubbed his eyes as his brow furrowed.

" 'Lo?" He mumbled, but was shot awake by the urgency in her voice.

*Please stay on the phone with me. I'm being followed.* Winry said. Ed's mind fought to catch up to the present and he finally forced words out.

"Followed? Where are you?"

*I'm on Wooster. I need to keep walking until I find a cab.* She said with a shaky voice. Ed launched out of bed and started pulling pants on.

"Get off the street. I'm at the shop right now, I'll wait for you downstairs."

Winry found it curious that he'd still be at work so late and walked faster. Her fear escalated as the scrape of metal continued behind her, and she heard the whir of moving electronics once again, happening in repeated intervals alternating with a footstep. She wasn't about to turn around and see what it was. Edward threw open the attic door and flew down the steps before running down the stretch of his studio and out the door. Looking down the building's staircase and out the glass panes on the doors, he stood waiting to see her.

"You still there?" He asked. He could hear her heavy breathing.

*He's gaining on me.*

"Run, Winry." Ed thundered down the carpeted stairs and opened the foyer door before pushing out the building's graffitied front. His eyes scanned the street towards Houston and that's when he saw her, running down the cobblestoned street with the evening summer wind in her long hair. He would've been lost in her breathless beauty had it not been for the dark figure walking steadily only a half-block behind her. Ed's eyes widened, for the figure wasn't of a normal man, and the sounds it emitted were almost other worldly. Winry neared the building and her heart hammered as she sprinted, her eyes finally finding Edward standing in the building's doorway as he slid his phone in his pocket and reached for her. She raced up the stoop as her hand found his and he pulled her through the foyer and closed the door behind her before looking out through the glass. The dark figure stood in the street, not moving, but watching. Edward's skin crawled as his grip tightened on Winry's hand.

"Come on." He said, pulling her behind him as he climbed the stairs back to the studio. After closing Alchemy's door behind them and locking it Winry leaned back against it and panted, trying to catch her breath and blinking back moisture. The studio was dark, the only illumination came in via the large front window from the street lights outside. Edward moved to the window and looked down, but the dark figure was gone. Whatever it was, it wasn't human.

"What the hell was that?" He asked. When he got no reply he turned back to her. "Winry?"

Her face was ashen, eyes wide and watery, and he stepped to her as she felt her knees give out and she sagged forward. Strong arms supported her and helped her to the sofa before Edward kneeled in front of her.

"I have to start over." She sighed, heartbroken. "He found me. I have to leave the city. I have to start over." Edward took her hands in his.

"What's going on?" His golden gaze searched glassy blue, and something sharp pulled in his chest. He'd seen her fragile, but not like this. Like the tiniest touch would shatter her in an instant. "Tell me what you need."

Winry felt her words bubbling beneath the surface. She knew what she wanted, what she needed, but what would he say? The onslaught overwhelmed her.

"I… I don't know…" She choked on the heavy lump in her throat and waves of anxiety crashed over her. "I'm so… God I'm so scared, Edward."

Her fear was palpable, and yet she held herself together so well and Edward felt a pulling in his chest -an unwavering need to comfort her, to be strong for her. He released her hands and held her face carefully, a thumb softly stroking her cheekbone.

"Hey, everything's alright." He told her. "He's gone, you're okay."

"You don't understand, he's coming back!" Winry insisted. Her heart slammed wildly in her chest and she felt the first mists of tears springing to the surface. Edward tried helplessly to grasp what was happening to her as he witnessed her unraveling. "He'll find me. He'll do it again. He'll hurt me again!"

Making a move he hoped wouldn't be overstepping, Edward pulled her forward to slide off the couch and onto her knees so she would collapse into his arms. The feeling flooding his chest was odd. He was desperately worried for her, but the feel of her body in his arms, her chest pressed against his own, her face buried in his neck as she breathed hard and tried to remain calm …he would have been elated if he weren't so worried for her. He didn't realize how badly he wanted this; not to see her suffering, but to be the one she came to for comfort.

Ed pulled back to look into her watery eyes, wanting to drown himself in the blue depths and he wiped away the tear that threatened to fall as he held her face in his hands again.

"I won't let ANYONE hurt you, got it? Someone wants you, they have to get through me."

His eyes were blazing. Winry knew he was concerned and being strong for her, and although she found it so insane for her to be running to her tattoo artist for help, there was no one else she felt safer with. She'd seen his body, she knew he was strong. She'd seen the dog tags hanging around his neck and the pictures in his booth of him in desert camouflage, she knew he'd served in the military and had combat training. He made her calm. His hands on her back when he tattooed her were solid but gentle, the way they were in that moment as he held her face only inches from his own. She felt he could protect her. The yellow light from the window poured into the dark studio illuminating one side of his face, and what an incredibly handsome face it was. So symmetrical. So striking. So beautifully sculpted.

Edward stood and took Winry's hands, pulling her to her feet and without a word he gently pulled her to follow him to the studio's rear and down a short hallway. She stopped when she saw the stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked, nervous again. He turned to her.

"It's late and we both need sleep. You can trust me Rockbell, I promise." She eyed him speculatively.

"After you." He said, gesturing to the flight of stairs, and she ascended the steps and opened a door, finding herself in his living quarters. He followed her and turned on a small lamp that perched on the floor next to his mattress, casting low-wattage incandescence over the small room. Winry took in the rustic, bare bones environment before looking back at him.

"You live here." She said, less of a question and more of an observation. He nodded in return.

"It's not much, but it's mine. You're welcome to stay the night if you'd like. I'll sleep on a couch in the studio if you're more comfortable."

She looked at the full mattress on the floor with its messy sheets and quilt, and didn't want to force him from his own bed. Edward noticed her deep contemplation and offered another option.

"I could take you home." He said, mentally hoping she'd opt to stay. Winry declined, the last thing she wanted was to be home alone.

"I'd like to stay please." She said, adding softly. "You can stay too."

She wanted him around, and he wanted to be there for her. He offered her to sit in the club chair in the corner and he leaned back against his drawing table.

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with your emergency last week?" He speculated. She admired how astute he was and she nodded, eyes fixed on the beat up floor boards as her hands twisted nervously in her lap. She took a deep breath.

"I received a phone call from my lawyer the other day. My ex-boyfriend made parole." Her fingers gripped the leather armrest angrily and she took another breath. "I know it was him following me tonight. He sent me a text, though I don't know how he got my number."

"How do you know it was him?" Asked Edward. He leaned casually with arms folded across his strong, naked chest and Winry only allowed herself the quickest glance at sculptured lean muscles and beautiful tattoos before looking away.

"The text… he said something he always said to me when we were together. He always watched me like a hawk, so convinced I would betray him… " She shook her head in disgust. "Anyway he wound up going to prison but because he plead insanity during the trial his high connections got him a reduced sentence."

"Have you spoken to the cops?"

"They've never been much of a help to me." Winry said bitterly. "They never listened. All the times I reached out quietly for help so he wouldn't know, nothing got done. All they did was separate us for a night. They didn't help me until there it was so blatantly obvious that they couldn't look away. I don't wanna deal with the cops trying to tell me i'm 'overreacting'."

Edward desperately wanted to know more and wished he could ask her to be less vague, but he wouldn't push the issue and instead made a mental note to contact the NYPD Commissioner and see if he knew anything. Winry's gaze fixed itself firmly on her rigid hands, fisted tightly in her lap as she fought the burning anger in her gut and blinked back her furious tears. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her eyelids, but she feared she wouldn't sleep that night at all and she sighed loudly, looking up at Edward. He decided to lighten the mood a little.

"I think its time for a drink."

* * *

A finger's worth of scotch sat in the glass on the sideboard, warm from spending it's night in the midsummer air that filled the attic. Winry had only taken a few sips to calm her shaken nerves before sleep claimed her in the chair where she sat, and when Edward entered the room from returning the bottle to the kitchen downstairs he saw her and sighed. He wanted to know more and had hoped tonight would give him the answers. But at least she was there. His only relief from worry was knowing that he was who she turned to for help, so now that a crack in her amour had been made, he would do what he could to gently widen it without scaring her off.

Watching her asleep in his chair brought a new issue to light. He'd fallen asleep in that chair many times only to wake to an aching back the next day, and he looked back and forth between the mattress on the floor and his damsel in distress. Silently hoping he wouldn't live to regret it, he carefully scooped her into his arms and crossed the room. She was curiously heavier than he expected she'd be, but not too heavy to lift comfortably as he kneeled to softly deposit her on the bed. Releasing her was a disappointment, for the feel of her breath puffing softly over his bare skin was strangely addictive, but Ed was thankful for her unconscious state for it gave him better opportunity to drink in her appearance. She wore that jumpsuit again, the one with the long and tantalizing zipper and his sharp eyes were given a treat in the way the fabric hugged her frame. How had he not noticed the curves before? Yes, he'd noticed when her zipper fell lower than it should've during his consultation, and for brief moments he'd appreciated her impressive posterior as she straddled his chair while doing her outline, but watching her sleep was the first time he'd noticed her beauty beyond her giving nature and pretty face.

Fabric hugged and contoured over the voluptuous hills and deep valleys of her body, and Edward knew it likely had nothing to do with attention seeking and was more closely related to the prohibition of baggy, loose fabric in garages. Getting clothes caught in machinery was no laughing matter, and the resulting snugness of her jumpsuit was a blessing in his eyes. He loved it, but also hated it because it meant other people saw her in it. Other men. The man following her. The man she was afraid of.

A lightbulb blinked to life as Ed suddenly recalled Winry mentioning a text, and he decided to be risky and only invade her privacy a teeny tiny bit. Fabric stretching across her hip showed him exactly where her phone was hiding, and he slid it out carefully and pressed her thumb to the home button, opening to her home screen. Once in her texts, he found the most recent one from an out of state area code and fought against his anger upon reading it. His mood only lifted when he opened another thread from someone named Rebecca and scanned a few lines, finding himself grinning wickedly at the conversation about the "cute" tattoo artist turned client who "had amazing eyes and was very distracting".

Winry breathed in and shifted in her sleep, freezing Ed on the spot as he watched and waited for her to settle again. He quickly put her phone down on the floor next to her in case she opened her eyes, and was again rendered motionless as he watched her stretch in bed. Her back arching, his mouth fell slack as her full chest rose in the air and her small midsection contorted deliciously, twisting the knife as his head lilted to the side and his mouth watered.

'Snap out of it, asshole.' Ed thought, shaking out of his stupor. He stood and paced the room, trying to fidget away from how creepy he'd just been. Pulling up his long hair into a messy bun didn't do much to comfort the heat washing over the back of his neck, and the hot summer air wasn't helping much. The window unit was currently broken, and he felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck as he stood contemplating his situation. Ed typically slept naked or damn near, and he currently wore jeans and nothing else. He didn't want to leave Winry alone in the attic and sleep on the leather couches downstairs because as much as he liked her, he still didn't know her well enough to trust her near the safe. He pondered how comfortable she might be sharing a bed with him after the night's events, and didn't want to make her feel even more vulnerable.

As he turned out the light and shrouded them in darkness, he sank into the chair in the corner, knowing his back would pay for it the next day, but took solace in the way the moonlight glowed in the window and illuminated her peaceful face. Winry rolled over in her sleep and pulled Ed's pillow against her, burying her face in it as she sighed.

He watched over her until sleep claimed him.

* * *

Winry blinked her eyes open to far away chatter and the buzzing of tattoo machines. It was morning, and she was still in Edward's loft. She stretched her limbs and breathed deep, loving the smell that clung to the sheets. They smelled like a man, and her stomach flipped involuntarily. The air was warm and calm as she sat up on the mattress, finding herself alone in the room, and she got to her feet to go find Edward when she became sidetracked by the dogtags hanging from a nail in the wall. Curiosity was always a fault of hers and she crept out of bed and -noting the door was closed- she returned to the opposing wall and picked up the metal tags. They were scuffed, but legible as she smoothed a thumb over the tiny embossed letters

ELRIC

EDWARD V.H.

503-10-1910

A NEG

AGNOSTIC

'FULLMETAL'

Winry's blonde brows creased as she wondered what 'Fullmetal' meant, and she released the dog tags as she looked around at pictures thumb-tacked to the wall above his drawing table. Pictures of some familiar faces she'd seen working downstairs with Ed in a dusty, rocky mountain terrain under a bright sky all wearing desert camouflage. Winry's heart sped up a little at the sight of him, skin tanned from the sun and dark stubble shadowing his jaw. Her eyes moved down to the drawing table littered with pencils and half drawings of flowers and it was only then that she noticed the wall the table rested against was covered with similar sketches of flowers. Roses, lilies, geraniums, irises, cherry blossoms, every flower you could think of. Wondering what the flowers were for, she reached up to touch a sketch of daisies when the door opened behind her.

"Hey there." Came Edward's smooth voice. Winry turned to find him freshly showered with wet hair and wearing black pants and a sleeveless black shirt. He shook a towel over his head as he walked in. "How'd you sleep?"

"Much better than I would've at home alone. Thank you for letting me stay." Winry twirled a piece of blonde hair around her finger nervously as he grinned at her and tossed the towel in a nearby laundry bin. His hair was darker blonde from being wet, and hung in jagged pieces around his pretty eyes. Only then did she realize how long it was, it fell over his shoulders and touched his ribs.

"How did I not notice how long your hair is?" She said with a small smile. Ed shrugged, looking down at the long ends before raking a hand through it.

"I usually pull it up while I'm working."

"It's pretty." She said without thinking, and almost blushed as he reached out and trapped a small lock of her hair between two fingers and slid down to the ends, bringing attention to her own length.

"Back at you, Rockbell." He winked. "You hungry? Lets get food."

Winry grabbed her phone and moved to follow him but stopped, biting her lip nervously as she listened to the buzzing downstairs. Ed looked back at her questioningly.

"Sorry, just… everyone's gonna see me leave…"

It took Edward a moment to catch up, and when he did his dark eyebrows raised. "Oh. Shit, right." On one hand he understood not wanting her to look like a one night stand, but on the other hand he didn't want to wave it off and say 'don't worry, they see girls come out of here all the time' because he didn't want her to think of him as a pig.

"Everyone's busy right now," He said. "They probably won't even notice you leaving." He extended a hand for her and when she reached for it he pulled her close. The morning light that beamed through a singular small window cast a glow over the loft, and Edward found his guest to be even more captivating in the yellowy glow of summers morning.

"I'm glad you called me last night." He murmured, suspending her thoughts with an intense look. Winry was at a loss for words when he pulled her after him, down the stairs and out onto the shop floor where he released her hand. As they strode to the front desk Winry glanced around, noticing the steadiness of the store and how everyone was absorbed in their task at hand. They neared the desk and Ed glanced at the open book on the tabletop.

"Sheska what's on deck today?" He asked as he poured his eyes over the pages. Sheska leaned over the book with him after smiling at Winry and giving her a wink in greeting.

"You've got someone in an hour, and another later tonight." She said, looking up at her boss. Ed scratched his head in thought and glanced at Winry before asking his receptionist if his first appointment was a request.

"Nope." She chirped. "Its just a consult, and he didn't request you. Said he's happy with anyone who can do traditional Japanese."

Ed nodded in understanding. "Put him on Jean's book, I need to take a personal day but I'll be back for my client tonight." His eyes connected with Winry's and something in her chest fluttered as he nodded toward the door.

"Walk with me, Rockbell."

* * *

"Let's get coffee," he said to her once out on the cobblestone street. "I wanna talk to you."

The sun was hot in the sky and the summer air blew softly. It was a beautiful day. Winry didn't need to be at work until that evening, and walked along with Ed quietly until they reached a coffee shop on the corner. Her heart hummed in her chest, both excited and nervous being around him. She found herself at a loss, wanting to pour her aqua eyes over his handsome face all day, yet afraid to meet his gaze for the way it immobilized her. Edward held the door for her, and as she entered the crowded coffee shop she could feel his body behind her, radiating warmth. Every muscle in her body tightened against the urge to let herself sink back against his chest, and she couldn't shake the feeling that just might be exactly what he wanted. The temperature was in the nineties outside, and the small shop was stifling.

"What do you want?" He asked, turning to her. "I'm buying." Winry's attempts to pay for herself were declined with a cunning look and a smile that could charm a shark onto dry land. Suddenly, her mouth watered and prickling heat surged over her chest and face. Winry blinked and looked around the cramped, bustling shop and she swayed on her feet. A hand curled around her elbow, shocking her back to reality with its cold touch.

"Are you okay?" Ed asked. Winry didn't answer as she grabbed his metal arm and pressed his hand to her chest. The sigh of relief from the cool steel against her fiery skin slid her eyes closed.

"I'm sorry," she panted breathlessly as she held his palm to her. "I thought I was gonna faint. It's so hot in here."

Edward beamed internally knowing that yet again, he was the one to comfort her. Soothing the souls of others was what he lived for, and the feelings of protectiveness and urgency to make her happy were something he hadn't felt for anyone in years. He also loved the fact that his hand was pressed to her dewy flesh under her jumpsuit and wished it could be his real hand. His eyes washed over her flushed cheeks and the long fluttery lashes that lay against high cheekbones as she shifted his hand to rest on the hollow of her throat. He slid his long metal fingers to spread out along her slender neck in effort to bring her more relief, and mentally patted himself on the back for being smart and opting for a steel alloy that retained cold temperatures for the summer rather than warm ones for the winter.

Gold eyes fell victim to a singular bead of sweat that rolled down her neck, and it pulled his attention with it as it traveled lower, disappearing between her breasts and under her jumpsuit zipper which she had lowered in efforts to cool herself. Discipline was something the Army had taught him, and he drew on every bit of those lessons in that moment to stop himself from pulling her forward and pressing his mouth to her neck, among other places. He pushed aside the thoughts before his tightening pants gave him away.

A shift in movement in front of them meant the line was moving, and Edward stepped to the counter with his heat-flushed companion at his side, slinging his metal arm over her shoulders for her to hold onto and secretly loving how it pulled her close to him, as he turned to the cashier. His words went unnoticed as the clerk, a balding man in his forties, sent Edward a look that could send a desert cobra slithering away.

"Get out of my shop, freak."

Winry's eyes snapped open, the overwhelming heat suddenly forgotten as the room fell quiet. She looked up at Ed who stood slightly stunned.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, I said out. We don't serve your kind here." The cashier said, gesturing to Ed's automail. Ed removed his arm from Winry's shoulders to fall to his side.

"I'm not armed." He insisted calmly. "My automail is just that. No weapons."

"I don't believe you. I'm the owner and I can refuse service to anyone for any reason. It's my right as an American! Now leave or I'll call the cops!"

Winry glanced around at the faces of the people softly murmuring, a couple shaking their heads dejectedly, but many with angry eyes and nods of approval. Edward felt rooted to were he stood, and his usually bright eyes became sharp and dangerous as he glared at the shop owner.

"Fine." He glowered before turning to Winry. "Let's go."

"-No." She contested. Winry cast her angry gaze on the shop owner.

"He's a veteran, you know. He lost his arm at war. The war he fought in to protect your freedoms as an American. Many soldiers carry automail still serve and you should be proud to have a military member in your store. You can be prejudiced if you really want because you have the right to your beliefs, but you don't have the right to turn him away." Winry scolded. She felt cold steel fingers slip into her hand. "You can't expect service and then degrade the ones who serve."

Ed's hand tightened its hold on Winry's as he wondered how she'd known about his arm and fought to contain his anger, infuriated and embarrassed that Winry had a front row seat to one of the uglier sides of his life.

"Break it up, people." A voice shouted from behind them. The crowd began to dissipate as two uniformed officers weaved through the shop and approached Edward and Winry. "There a problem here?"

Ed remained calm as he pulled Winry to turn away.

"No officer, we were just leaving."

Winry shot a final glare at the shop owner as she strode out along with Edward, and it wasn't until they'd walked a few blocks to blow off steam that she'd realized they'd held each other's hand the entire time.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the love, I'm so pleasantly surprised at how much everyone is enjoying this fic because I've been pretty nervous about it. I'm so proud of Perfect Blood and all its companion pieces, I was worried about sophomore slump. It seems like I've been doing okay so far. Thanks for reading and reviewing, can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts, more soon!


	6. Chapter 6

In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed—

But a waking dream of life

and light

Hath left me broken-hearted.

-E.A. Poe

* * *

The diner was far friendlier, eyes barely blinked from the waitress who served them coffee at their table. Winry wasn't sure if it was because she was a nice person, or if it was because she was too busy gawking at Edward's angular face and long, ponytailed hair to even notice his prosthetic. She had a feeling it was the latter.

"If you need anything else, anything at all, just let me know." The young waitress to Ed and Ed only. Small hands curled around a coffee mug tightly as Winry watched the woman bat her lashes at Edward, who barely looked back at her as he smiled politely before she finally left, leaving Edward and Winry alone again.

The incident at the coffee shop had been unpleasant to say the least, but it wasn't the first time Winry had witnessed injustices against the automailed. She'd been working in garages with her grandmother since she was a kid, and had seen her granny Pinako turned away for being 'a creator of abominations' —meaning that people assumed she was weaponizing her automail. Engineering concealed weapons into automail had always been a touchy subject between the pro-gun and anti-gun crowds, with incidents of robberies and murders standing opposite stories of thwarted home invasions and the capture of hit and run criminals. But it always seemed that for every good story of someone using their hidden gun to bring down the bad guy, it was followed by the horror stories of rape and beatings by automailers even without the concealed weapons.

Even average, practical automail on the wrong carrier had been weaponized, and the decades of simmering tension finally boiled over 8 years prior when a seemingly normal 23 year old man opened fire on an elementary school with the assault rifle built into his arm and beat a teacher, his girlfriend, to death with his steel fist. He killed 5 children along with her, and would've killed more if it hadn't been for the police shooting him dead.

The massacre had launched the nation into a state of quarrel over whether or not the public had the right to know if their neighborhoods housed people carrying automail, and Capital Hill had spent 8 years bouncing the Automail Registration Act back and forth, trying to decide if it should be law to expose people even if they aren't carrying weapon-modified prosthetics or if it would violate privacy, free will, and the right to bear arms.

Winry watched the cream in her coffee swirl around until Ed's voice broke her trance.

"Sorry about that back there."

Winry's eyes found his across the table.

"Don't be." She said. "It's not your fault, and it's nothing I haven't seen before. I grew up around automail." The corner of Ed's mouth curled a bit. Something about her being an engineer made her incredibly cute, perhaps it was how unexpected it was. She didn't look the part of the average automail creator, even among the females. Automail garages were notorious boys clubs, and most of the women sprinkled throughout the industry came with shorter hair and scraped-up knees and the toughness required to exist in a man's world. Winry was different. Edward still hardly knew her, but he could tell she was special.

Her hands were smaller and more delicate, her blonde hair poured down her back even when suspended in a ponytail, and she was …womanly. She was deeply-feeling and unencumbered by industry noise saying what she was supposed to be. Watching her work on his arm revealed her true passion, and how free she was when she was helping others. It was all she cared about. It was uncommon to find lady-like behavior in automail shoppes, and Edward was intrigued by the idea that she had amassed such a following without succumbing to the societal pressures to be tough and competitive in order to get ahead. Honestly, it was damn smart of her to do the opposite, because what heterosexual male wouldn't love to have a beautiful woman like her speak sweetly to him and press her body close while she pried a cracked bolt out of his arm socket?

Ed wanted to laugh knowing that she was likely unaware of the effect she had on men. He could tell she was one of these other-wordly beauties who had no clue they could slay the entire population with a smile. He'd heard her laugh only once, when her work colleague said something funny during his appointment, and to hear her laugh was enough to halt most people in their tracks. Edward could listen to her sweet laughter all day, and when he thought of this he stopped stirring his coffee as something cold seized around his heart. There was only one other person in his life who he felt that way for; only one other time he had acknowledged a laugher he could blissfully swim in forever. He shook the thought away with a bitter scowl.

"So, you wanna tell me more about the guy from last night?" Ed asked. Winry ran a fingertip along the rim of her coffee cup as she thought of what to say. Part of her felt like a fool for calling Edward and dragging him into this mess. She couldn't tell him the truth, but he deserved some sort of explanation. He was smart enough to know she wasn't being followed by some mere acquaintance.

"Someone from the past, he always had control issues. I can't really go into the details, but thank you for helping me and for letting me stay." Winry said as she sipped her coffee and straightened her shoulders, poised like a proper lady, fighting down the lump in her throat and the fear in her stomach. Edward watched her pouty pink lips curl into a wrought smile that didn't spread to her eyes, and his dark brow furrowed. He wasn't buying it.

"That's it?" He questioned. "You call me in the middle of the night begging for help, show up practically in tears babbling about someone being after you, and that's all you can offer me? What the fuck _was_ that thing? It wasn't human."

Winry felt sweat break on the back of her neck despite the chill from the diner's air conditioning. She wanted to lie, but found herself unable to produce sensible reasoning under the scrutiny of Edward's alert gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her as she suddenly felt as if the entire restaurant could hear them.

"Not here." She said, looking up at Edward. "I can't tell you here."

Ed eyed her curiously, the way her blue eyes seemed unfocused and far away and the way she fidgeted nervously. He watched her fingers drumming on the table top as she looked around, and some unknown force propelled his flesh hand to cover hers on the table. Blue eyes snapped around to meet fierce gold.

"You know I'm not going to hurt you, right? Whatever it is, you can tell me." He said. Winry sat rendered motionless by the touch of his warm hand on hers, and breathing became difficult. Her mind paused before being flooded with images she'd fought for so long to forget. His words were the echoes of a past life that haunted her daily, and before she could tell herself to call down she wrenched her hand away from his and sat back, shaking her head slowly as her steadily watering eyes fixed on his stunned expression.

"No…" She quaked softly as she slowly backed out of the booth to stand. "…No I'm not doing that again. You stay away from me." The heads of a few waitresses and nearby customers turned at the commotion and Edward sat wide eyed, at a loss for what to say or do. He watched an angry tear roll down her cheek.

"Hey, I never meant to-"

"-No! No you… you stay away from me. I keep myself safe, understand? Me. No one else." Fury burned in Winry's chest as another tear fell and she stormed past the concerned on-lookers and out of the diner.

* * *

Edward sat in his office at Alchemy with his feet on the desk and scowl on his face. A knock at the door was instantly followed by two of his employees entering without permission, the way they usually did.

"I'm busy." He said without looking up. His comment went unnoticed as a white paper bag was dropped in his lap.

"What's eating you, Fullmetal?" Questioned a man in his mid thirties with messy blonde hair and a cigarette perched behind his ear. Jean Havoc was a Lieutenant in the Army and served alongside Edward, and was discharged with full honors and a Purple Heart after a bullet lodged itself dangerously close to his spine, almost paralyzing him. He was one lucky bastard to have been walking so soon after the surgery, and had spent his newly found free time drawing. After spending several years in the tattoo industry, he jumped at the opportunity to work for Ed when he heard he was opening up shop.

"Nothing is. Is this Shake Shack?" Edward asked, opening the bag as Havoc leaned against the edge of the desk.

"It sure is," A voice called from the black couch. Situated on the armrest next to tall piles of books, magazines and sketches sat the shop apprentice with legs crossed and a burger stuffed in her mouth. "We walked forever and waited in line even longer to get it for you, so be grateful. You know how horrible the line at Shake Shack is."

"I appreciate the gesture, Envy. I'm assuming that you taking that kind of time away from the studio means every surface is spotless out there?"

Envy straightened and looked at Jean. "Can you believe this guy? We march across town in 90 degree heat to get his favorite junk food and he's got the nerve to bitch about the cleaning? Yeah it's spotless out there now eat, you ingrate."

Edward sat blinking with his burger halfway to his mouth as he stared at his salty apprentice. Jean shrugged his shoulders when Ed looked up at him in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"You hired him." Said Jean. Envy snapped to attention.

"SHE. Not he. I may dress like a man but I was born a woman."

Jean rolled his eyes. "I can't keep up with you dude, I know you're gender neutral and all but cut me some goddamn slack."

Nobody knew Envy's real name, because she wouldn't tell anyone. She also served along Edward's side in the Army when she was 18, but was discharged when a Commanding Officer walked in on her and another female soldier together and she could no longer hide who she truly was. Envy was born in a female body, but identified as both female and male and Alchemy served as the first place she could freely exercise her androgyny without ridicule or persecution.

"Give me a french fry and I'll forgive you." She said with a coy smirk, having never actually been offended by Havoc's comment. Jean threw a fry at her and turned back to Ed.

"Like we were saying, what's your problem? All week you've barely spoken a word unless necessary, you handed off two appointments to other artists, and you spend all your time in here listening to The Smiths in the dark by yourself."

"Don't tell me. Are the kid's at school teasing you, Ed? Well listen if you're gonna off yourself here's a little advice." Envy piped up as Ed rolled his eyes. She picked up a french fry to demonstrate on her wrist. "It's not enough to cross the street," She said as she slid the fry across her wrist before trailing a path down towards her elbow. "You gotta go down the lane."

"This is the future of my business." Edward said dumbfounded as he looked back at Jean with a thumb jutted in Envy's direction. "This is the future of Alchemy."

"Like I said, you hired her."

Ed crumbled up the wrapper after finishing his burger and chucked it into a nearby trashcan. "Well I'm not a suicidal teenager, I've just got an issue with a client I can't figure out."

"Which client?" Envy asked.

"Don't worry about it."

Both Jean and Envy threw their hands up and groaned collectively, eyes rolled skyward with comments of 'here we go' and 'oh this shit again'. Edward had spent nearly every day trying to reconfigure the shop schedule and shift clients around, calling clients to negotiate appointment switches and even going as far as to offer discounts to his personal clients if it meant he could squeeze Winry in for her next appointment sooner. Everything was Winry this and Winry that. It was driving his employees crazy.

"It's the blonde one, isn't it?" Havoc asked. "The pretty one. The one you won't shut up about trying to get in here. What's your deal, you're psychotic about her."

"Yeah Ed, you think I haven't come across the dozens of sketches you've made of her? You obviously like her, just ask her out already." Envy added.

Ed scowled and ran a hand through his long, messy bangs and sighed.

"Its not that simple. I tried, sort of. I've spent a little time with her outside the studio, and she's …peculiar. She called me late last night, asking me to stay on the phone because someone on the street was following her. When she got scared I told her to come here and by the time she showed up she was on the verge of a breakdown, going on about how 'he knows where she is' and 'it'll happen again'. I can't just feed her to the wolves, she called me for help."

Envy twisted one of her waist length, greenish-black dread locks around her fingers and eyed her boss speculatively. Edward was always a giving person, always willing to lend a helping hand to anyone, so it was no surprise to hear that he was feeling protective of his client. But the sketches she'd found while filing some of his tracings one day stopped her in her tracks. They were simple etchings of pencil on white paper, and the woman in the drawing had a pretty, but troubled face. What stopped Envy were the flowers. Her long hair swayed in an imaginary breeze, and flowers flowed around her. Edward always drew flowers absentmindedly, but never for clients. Ever.

"It doesn't matter though," Edward continued, with a certain degree of disappointment. "I got coffee with her this morning and tried to get her to open up a little, but she freaked out and told me to stay away from her. I feel bad, I'm supposed to be finishing her tattoo soon. I feel like a dick for scaring her off."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "You're a lot of things, but you're not a dick. Especially not for wanting to help her. What I don't get is, why this obsession with getting her back here so soon? She has an appointment set for next month, why are you so fixated? You've never obsessed over a client before, let alone someone you just wanted to fuck."

"I don't wanna fuck her. Well, I mean sex has definitely crossed my mind …but it's different. I'd also be fine to just sleep with her, and I wouldn't mind if she was still here the next day. I might even make waffles with syrup in the morning."

"Woah." This time both of Jean's eyebrows went skyward, and he supressed an amused grin. "Waffles and syrup, huh?"

"Yeah... It scares the shit out of me."

"Don't freak out Ed," Envy said brightly as she stood from her spot on the couch. "This is a good thing, right? I mean fuck, we really thought you were losing it for a minute there. But you like someone!"

"I don't like her."

"Yeah you do." Sang Havoc, officially letting his cheshire cat grin play out. "Edward likes a giiirrrll…" He chanted.

Irritation sparked in Ed's chest and he pointed to the door.

"Get out of my office before I have you both doing my laundry."

Jean and Envy snickered and left the room, swimming in the satisfaction of knowing their army comrade-turned-boss was completely disarmed by a pretty, socially awkward blonde slip. As Jean returned to his booth, Envy glanced over her shoulder to be sure Ed was still shut away in his office.

"Havoc, do you think it's true?"

"What, that Ed sweats the blonde chick? Yeah, why?"

"No I mean," Envy crept closer and dropped her voice low. "Do you think he LIKES her."

Jean sat back and scratched his head as he thought about it. "Oh, right… waffles and syrup. I dunno, maybe. But if he does, I hope this ones worth it."

Envy grabbed a broom and started sweeping the wood floors to busy herself. "I bust his balls a lot, but I owe Ed everything. I just wanna see him happy."

"We all do, V."

* * *

A/N: I was requested to update a little earlier, ask and you shall receive. Its the least I can do for such awesome readers who all take the time to pay attention to my silly little stories and then give me their thoughts. You guys are the best. Chap 7 in a few days, and for anyone who might be getting antsy ...the good shit is coming.


	7. Chapter 7

She wore her scars

as her best attire.

A stunning dress

made of hellfire.

-Daniel Saint

* * *

Winry sat up in bed the next night, with every light in the apartment blazing and a large kitchen knife under her pillow. She was taking no chances. The summer storm outside raged loudly, pelting waves of rain against the windows and sending vibrations through the floorboards with every boom of thunder. She fisted her sheets and tried to be strong, but storms frightened her. Nellie was away as usual, leaving Winry alone which she usually preferred but that night she found herself wishing she had the company of anyone, even if it was her awful roommate. It was nearly midnight, and Winry didn't want to wake her grandmother with a phone call or anyone else for that matter, so she leaned back against the wall and pulled her knees to her chest. It seemed that sleep wouldn't visit her that night.

The lights flickered, and Winry's heart skipped a beat.

"No…" She said out loud to an empty apartment. "No please don't go out. Please, please, please."

Her request was denied, and she found herself bathed in darkness. Her heart hammered, not from fear of the dark, but from fear of what the darkness could be hiding and she grabbed her phone off the nightstand to switch open the flashlight app. She hummed a made-up tune loudly as she scurried to the kitchen and rummaged through drawers, finally producing the matches and candles she needed. Once situated with some soft illumination, her anxiety began to fade as she settled back on the bed only to jump out of her skin again when her phone sent a vibrated pulse into her palm. It was a text from the last person she expected to hear from.

[[You have an appointment set for a month from now, should I still expect you?]]

Winry's heart raced again, but it sped for a different reason. There was fear and anxiety, but also a strange excitement. A nervousness crept in her belly at the thought of him, and yet, he occupied her thoughts almost all the time. His next automail appointment was coming in two days, and she desperately needed the money if she ever hoped to move out of her apartment. Especially now that she truly had a reason to look over her shoulder again. She couldn't afford to refuse him as a client, and in all honesty she did want to see him again. She felt bad for what happened at the diner. She also desperately wanted him to finish her tattoo.

[[Yes.]] She typed back. [[I'll be there. Can I still expect you for your arm adjustment?]]

Winry watched the screen as the message changed from 'delivered' to 'read', and waited impatiently for the three grey dots to produce a response.

[[Sure, If you'll have me. Btw I have your date book, you left it at the diner.]]

Winry shot upright. She'd been tearing her house apart looking for that damn thing. Without it she'd have no idea what clients would be coming in on what days, and at what times for which procedures. Prepping would be a nightmare and staying on schedule would be impossible. She silently thanked her lucky stars. Her phone vibrated again, this time with a phone call.

"Can I come by and get my book? I know its late but I really need it. Not having it is giving me anxiety." She answered.

*The weather is fucked, in case you weren't aware.* Ed replied. *Just wait till tomorrow, you can come by anytime. Its late and dangerous for you to go out in this by yourself.*

"I'll get a cab."

*Good luck with that. Nobodies on the street right now.* He reasoned as he looked out the studio's front window at the frightening storm. *Its a damn good thing tornados don't touch down in Manhattan, we've got the makings of one for sure. I'll keep your book safe, just stay home okay?*

A lump formed in Winry's throat. That book was her security blanket, it structured her entire life. It wasn't just client appointments, it was important dates and events, meetings and phone calls with detectives and attorneys. It was information from the parole officer. Every night she looked in that book before bed to know what was coming the next day, and now she would wake the next morning in a panic, fearful that she was forgetting something important. That date book, just like every date book from the last three years, was a timeline of her life. It was one of the last threads holding her together.

"What am I doing tomorrow?" She asked with a shaky voice. Edward felt that squeeze in his chest again. It was becoming too familiar, and yet it nauseated him with each wave. He opened the book and turned to the proper date, finding it's pages filled with neatly written information in black ink. His good concience wouldn't allow him to pry, esspecially after he'd opened her texts without her knowledge so he ignored the urge and let his eyes wander over the neat writing under the date to come.

*You have a phone call with some people named Brosh and Ross? It says to call at 7am.*

Winry smacked her palm to her forehead. She let out an exasperated curse and searched her mind for what to do. She needed that book and the notes that were in it for the phone call, and getting from her apartment to Alchemy and back would be at least an hour, maybe 90 minutes total on a train.

"I'm such an idiot. Fuck, I NEED that book for this stupid call, I'll have to come by tomorrow morning at 6am."

*Whatever you have to do, I guess.* The idea of being woken up that early wasn't ideal for Ed, but the prospect of seeing his client again was the silver lining he could live with.

* * *

" _You can't do this to me. …I thought we… Are you serious?"_

" _I'm sorry Edward… I just couldn't handle the loneliness anymore…"_

" _The loneliness? You couldn't handle loneliness?! I just spent a year in Afgahinstan! Do you have any idea what I've dealt with?! I'm coming home in two weeks to THIS—"_

"— _She's coming with me Edward."_

"… _With you? …No… No she's not. She's not going anywhere with you, you hear me?! She's not going anywhere!"_

" _You're too late Edward…. You failed…."_

" _YOU'RE NOT TAKING HER!"_

Thunder boomed in the sky, shaking the attic as Edward lurched awake with a start. His chest ached from the force of his hammering heart, and he wasn't sure if the sweat poured down his skin from the summer heat or from the horrible memories. He breathed deep as he sat up in bed, still shaking sleep away and gathering his wits as he looked around his small quarters. The room was stifling and his throat was parched, so he got to his feet and made his way downstairs. Turning left at the bottom of the stairs lead him into the studio's small kitchen and he filled a glass with water from the tap to satisfy him before shuffling out to the studio's large front window. Rain continued to hammer the windows and down the street the hanging traffic lights swayed wide in the heavy winds. He was glad he'd convinced Winry not to go out. He sat down on the sofa and immediately leaned to the side, having sat on something unusual and pulled out the simple black daily planner of hers. Lightening flashed outside illuminating the studio briefly and he wrestled with wether or not to read the planner. He set his glass down on the floor and decided that one little page couldn't hurt. Flipping open to a random spot, he didn't find much interesting. Clients from 10 to 5, dinner with someone named Rebecca after. His gaze fell to the next day. Work again, then dinner at Gran's. He looked at one last day and found something that piqued his curiosity. 9am hearing, afternoon doctor's appointment, meetings with Detectives Brosh and Ross.

That word caught his eye. Detectives. He thumbed through the planner some more, and found more of the same, but it troubled him. Doctor's appointments, court hearings, meetings with detectives. It didn't take much for Edward to connect the dots; this obviously had something to do with the phone call she'd gotten a few weeks back causing her to run out of the studio. It also clearly had something to do with whoever was following her. He was no stranger to a life full of legal hearings and sit downs with police. His life became nothing but a constant headache when he came home from his first tour of duty, his wife and all her drugged-out ridiculousness almost made him wish he were back at war. Almost. He spent the better part of a year going through a hellacious divorce, among other things and even worse to come. It was a stroke of luck that the Police Commissioner was his Commanding Officer during his first tour, so having the former Colonel on his side helped make a horrible situation as bearable as he could. It was always good to have friends in high places.

Edward closed the book and looked out on the frightening weather again as his thoughts drifted back to Winry. She seemed lonely. This book that meant so much to her showed him her life was consumed by work and the type of meetings that could only be stressful. Something deep in his gut told him they could have something to do with her fearful disposition, and he'd bet his last dollar that the massive cuts marring her back had a part in all of this. He decided in that moment to make a bold move, and took his empty glass back to the kitchen before returning to his room to pull on some clothes. After descending the stairs again and pulling his boots on he grabbed a red hoodie from his office and grabbed Winry's planner before heading out into the storm. He needed to get out of the house, the rain would feel good and he wanted to do something for Winry. He wanted to see something he didn't see nearly enough. He wanted to see her smile.

* * *

By the time Ed reached Winry's building from the subway he was soaked to the bone, and had long abandoned the hood that obscured his eyesight in his attempt to keep a dry head. Nothing was dry, but at least he could see where he was going. He buzzed her apartment and it was that moment that he realized he should've called to say he was coming. He wasn't even sure that she was home, he'd only assumed. A beep sounded and he spoke loudly over the noise of the storm into the speaker.

"Winry it's Ed! You home?!"

A few seconds dragged by, and just when he was about to leave he heard the door buzz and he pushed in.

Winry stood next to her door, wrapped in a blanket as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and waited for Edward. It was 2am, and she wondered what the hell he could want so late at night. She was honestly too tired to be concerned as she stood waiting in her dark apartment. A few moments later she heard boots squeaking against the wooden floors in the hall, and a knock on her door. She opened to a soaking wet Edward.

"Where's your umbrella?" She asked, waving him to come in as she shut the door behind him.

"I don't own one. I needed to get out for a bit, figured I'd bring you this in the meantime." He unzipped his hoodie and reached in, producing a flat parcel wrapped in a plastic shopping bag. Winry unwrapped it and revealed her planner. Sheer joy overcame her, and her mouth fell open as she gaped at him, so beyond thrilled to have her precious planner back. Emotion surged her into action, and she threw her arms around him.

"Thank you! Oh God thank you so much Ed, you don't know what this means to me. Thank you."

Ed breathed out and smiled a little, returning the hug carefully. He wanted to see her happy, he'd gotten more than expected. She separated a moment later and took in his appearance.

"Good lord, you're soaked. I feel bad."

Ed shrugged casually, feigning indifference. He would never let on that his boxer-briefs were soaked through and he was starting to chafe.

"It's not a big deal. I should probably get out of your hair anyway, I'm sorry I woke you and I'm sorry I showed up without calling."

"Are you kidding? I'm thrilled you came." She said. Partly was because she desperately needed her book, the other part was because she was happy to see him. Ed noticed the darkness of the apartment.

"I'm guessing the building is out? The hallway and stairs were dark when I came in."

"Yeah, we lost power. Sucks because…" She twirled a lock of hair around her finger nervously. "…Nevermind."

"Out with it." He smirked at her.

"I'm afraid of storms." She said somewhat breathlessly. The only reason she wasn't so afraid to admit it was because her fear greatly outweighed her embarrassment. "I don't want to be stuck in the dark alone during this weather." She silently pleaded that he would stay, and she got her wish as his mouth curled into a grin and he shrugged out of his wet hoodie.

"Don't worry, Rockbell. I'll keep you company."

Thunder boomed loudly and Winry jumped, instinctively grabbing the front of Ed's shirt.

"I feel bad, your clothes are wet and cold. You can't stay in these, you should take a shower to warm up." She said, looking up at him.

"Sounds great, but how does that work if there's no power?"

"This building is really old, it's wired on separate lines to maintain the plumbing and laundry without the whole place going out constantly. The water and washer are still on, we just don't have lights." She explained.

Ed raised his brows. "You have laundry in the building?"

"Even better, we have it in the unit." Winry said.

* * *

Ten minutes later Winry had poured herself a glass of wine to calm her nerves as she waited for Ed. She heard the shower turn on and he called out to her so she would know it was safe to come in and retrieve his wet clothes. As she walked to the opposite end of the apartment and opened the sliding door to put them in the dryer, she had to block out her imagination's idea of what seeing Edward naked might be like. Her motions slowed as she turned the dial to start the dryer and she returned to her wine. It had been years since she'd been this intrigued by a man. It had been years since she'd allowed any man to get close to her, men made her incredibly nervous, and yet for some reason the nervousness she felt around Edward wasn't fearful. It was excitement.

She had to admit to herself, he was incredibly good-looking with that long blonde hair of his and that dashing grin, and those eyes. She had never in her life seen eyes like his. Large and assessing, sharp and focused, and such a beautiful, brilliant gold. She feared making eye contact with him for too long, she may just lose herself in his eyes. As she went back to sit on her bed in the living room the bathroom door opened and Edward emerged from a cloud of steam wearing a white towel around his waist and little else. Winry had stressed that as long as he was comfortable with it, it wouldn't bother her in the slightest because she saw naked bodies all day in her line of work, but seeing him standing there with the soft glow from the candle illuminating his wet skin made her swallow hard. Sure, she'd noticed during his initial examination that his body was …impressive, what she hadn't noticed before was how a ball of fire seemed to zoom straight to all her naughty bits at the sight of his toned muscles, that shit-eating smirk, and of course the curiosity-inducing bulge happening just below the towel's edge. He looked less like a mild-mannered tattoo artist and more like the rugged, muscular male leads that graced the covers of the harlequin romance novels she snuck from her grandmother's room as a teenager. It took every ounce of will to tear her eyes away from him.

"You okay?" He asked with a smart grin.

"I'm fine." Winry chirped a little too quickly as she took another gulp of wine. "Yup, totally fine. As long as you're fine. Are you fine?"

More grinning.

"I'm fine." He knew he made her nervous, the way most women were around him, and he liked how awkward she was. It was downright cute. He decided to dip a toe in and test the waters. "I only ask because you're looking at me like I'm a steak dinner."

He watched her face in the low candle light as he moved to sit on the bed near her. She didn't inch away, and her pretty blue eyes followed his every movement. Maybe it was the mood, or the circumstances, maybe it was just the wine, but for the first time in forever Winry was feeling brave.

"I haven't had steak in a long time." She said, giving him a lingering look as she sipped her wine. "Would you like some wine?"

Edward declined with a simple shake of the head, he was far more interested in the not-so-subtle hint she'd just thrown him and he decided that if metaphors were to be the dialogue of the evening, then so be it.

"You're not a vegetarian, are you?" He said, leaning in ever so slightly with an earnest look. He silently prayed that his assumptions were right; there was no way a woman who might be celebate or gay would ever look at him like that.

"No, its just …been awhile. The last time I had steak it was…" Her words died in her throat as the images flooded back, and Edward immediately noticed her pupils reduce to pinpricks as she seemed to be a million miles away. His eyes sharpened as he picked up on the telltale signs; the lost gaze, the worried brow, the shaking hands. He'd noticed before how this seemed to be common for her, and he carefully pried the wineglass from her fingers to set it on the window's ledge before taking her hands in his.

"Don't think about it." He said to her low and calm in the darkness. He began to slowly move his thumbs across her knuckles, back and forth as he held her hands in his. "Concentrate on my voice. Focus on an outward feeling, something physical. Find something tangible to bring you back to the present."

He watched her intently, waiting for her to blink back to awareness, but it wasn't happening and his eyes followed a tear as it slowly made it's way down her cheek.

Edward reached out to wipe the tear away, and the moment his automail touched her skin she shrieked and knocked his arm away as though it were red hot. Winry's breath came in gasps as she backed away on the bed frantically and blinked in the darkness. She stared back at his alarmed expression and wanted to hide out of sheer embarrassment.

"Winry… what're you afraid of?" He questioned quietly. A few beats passed in which he received no answer, and he sighed as he rose to walk to the dryer. Deciding that his pants were dry enough, he pulled them on and discarded the towel before reemerging in the living room where he stood gazing at Winry.

"…Are you afraid of me?"

* * *

A/N: many thanks to all who read and review. Your thoughts on each chapter are giving me life these days, as i've been immensely stressed. My boyfriend and I are trying to find a new apartment and the market in nyc is basically a giant shit show of mass hysteria, so the tiny moments when my phone chimes with a review are a welcome relief thats difficult to convey. In short, your reviews make me sublimely happy.

Sidenote for fun: the way i've written Edward in the Perfect Blood universe as well as this fic is directly based on my boyfriend of the last 5 years. They literally have the same personality/mannerisms, so whenever someone tells me that they love the way i've written Edward, it makes me especially proud.

More soon!


	8. Chapter 8

The rain to the wind said,

'You push and I'll pelt.'

They so smote the garden bed.

That the flowers actually knelt,

And lay lodged—though not dead.

I know how the flowers felt.

-Robert Frost

* * *

Frantic nerves were suddenly put on pause at such a direct question. Was she afraid of him?

Yes. And also no.

"I'm more afraid of …what you could become." She gulped, trying to be strong and honest like he was. Edward remained shirtless in only his jeans and cracked a window to alleviate some of the stifling heat in the apartment. No lights meant no ac, and the storm outside blew a wonderful cool air into the little living room. He raked a hand through his messy long hair as he grappled with what to do next. He would never run around in circles like this with any other person, and he still wasn't sure exactly why he was willing to do it for Winry. All he knew was that despite his better judgement, he liked her. He liked her immensely and could tell she felt something too, but they were both afraid of attachment. He eased back onto the bed to sit beside her.

"If it helps, I'm afraid too." He said with a sad smile. Somehow it did help Winry a tiny bit, although it made no sense to her. Edward was tall and strong, Winry knew he could overpower most people if the motivation was there. He was a soldier who'd been to war. What reason could he have to fear her? Winry shifted her position to sit a little closer to him in the darkened room. He smelled like her shampoo, mixed with something else. The same earthiness from his bedsheets that stirred her stomach deliciously.

"Why would a man like you be threatened by a woman?" She asked. Ed bit his tongue from telling her the truth behind his suffering, the way his heartbreak had been stretched out for so long, and would likely never end. That was the thing about women; so often they didn't know the way they held men in the palms of their pretty hands like tiny, fragile birds. One in particular had broken his trust to the point where he'd wished he could hate all women for eternity.

"I suppose we fear rejection, or being mocked," He said with a shrug as he skirted around his personal truth. "Or maybe we fear someone calling us on all our bullshit. I've known guys who were really controlling with their girlfriends to compensate for their fear of a power shift. They felt emasculated by dating women with higher-paying jobs."

Winry would've laughed if it weren't unfortunately true.

"What about you?" Ed returned. "You're successful and confident in what you do, you're smart, well-liked, you're beautiful and you don't seem to spend much time dwelling on the opinions of men. Why would a woman like you be afraid of a man?"

Winry twisted the bedsheets in her hands as her blue eyes found his and she whispered,

"Mostly we're afraid you'll kill us."

Edward nearly swallowed his tongue as he shrank back in alarm. The air quickly grew thick as he blinked at her, trying to come up with what to say when something clicked and he regarded her with an intense look.

"Wait…did someone try to kill you?" He asked carefully. Winry bit her bottom lip in frustration. The wine had caused her to reveal far too much.

She moved to turn away from him but found her hands caught by his mis-matched ones and she paused, eyes cast downward as she tried to focus on breathing. Warm fingers tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and her eyes rose slowly to find him close to her.

"I meant what I said, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I swear you don't have to be afraid, not of me." She felt his breath over her skin and his fingers softly bury into her hair.

"Being cautious is all I know." She said. "I don't remember how to be any other way around men."

Edward had never been foolish person, but he saw value in the concept of an educated gamble. No risk, no reward.

"Stay still." He murmured softly to her as his hand smoothed over her hair again. "I wanna try something."

He leaned in slowly and pressed a small, soft kiss just below her ear. He hovered in place, waiting for a reaction and expecting her to shrink back, but Winry's hand came to rest on his shoulder, not pushing him away but steadying herself as she became light-headed. Ed pulled himself closer to her and shifted slowly to right himself and meet her gaze, pausing to see what she would do. She stayed put, and her shoulders relaxed. He took his opportunity and pressed another slow and careful peck, this time to her cheek, feeling her eyes flutter closed and her long lashes whisper across his cheek. It pained him to do so, but he pulled away and stroked her cheek softly, while looking at her closed eyes.

"Too much?" He mumured. His low and breathy voice sent something through her. A feeling she hadn't known in what felt like forever. She could only identify the feeling as waves of want, and she gazed back at him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes as her hands smoothed over his strong shoulders. She drew in a shaky breath and her eyes danced back and forth between his.

"Don't stop."

Edward had to crush his urge to leap forward and devour her. If it were any other woman on the planet this chase would have been over weeks ago. He would've showed up, flashed a grin, and one hand on the knee would've earned him an all access pass to the land of flesh and orgasms. But this was different. This he had to work for so very carefully, and if he was successful, his prize would be far greater than one night of drunken sex.

Winry was finding it not just harder to move but harder to breathe altogether as his face inched closer and closer, ever-so-carefully. Eyes were downturned and a metal hand raised to touch her jawline, coaxing her closer until their breaths were shared and barely whispered over each others lips.

"Don't be afraid." He hushed to her, even though his heart pounded as forcefully as he suspected hers did. He wanted this badly, but not at the risk of breaking what trust he'd earned. He drew on every shred of decency and control he possessed to stay frozen in place, and let her close the fractional, barely-there distance between their wanting mouths. When he thought she may not grant his wish, he felt her fingers dive into his loose hair and she tilted her chin, closing the distance.

His phone started ringing.

Winry pushed back from him, suddenly remembering where she was and what she was about to fall prey to as Edward pulled his phone from his pocket, illuminating his perfect scowl of frustration as he looked at the screen before grunting and sending the call to voicemail. Winry watched him carefully as he flippantly tossed his phone on the bed beside him.

"Sorry about that. Where were we?" He reached for her but she shrank back and eyed him suspiciously.

"Ed, someone's calling you in the middle of the night. Maybe it's important?"

"It's not." He shot back. "If I answer that call I'll only wind up even more pissed off."

He didn't mean to appear callous, but the knowledge that his ex-wife had now ruined yet another moment with a woman he was genuinely interested in made his blood simmer beneath his skin. The feel of her lips on his lasted only a fraction of a second and yet had left significant impact on him. He had known hunger as a child, and her mouth pulled on him emotionally the way the smell of the neighbor's dinner twisted his empty stomach. Edward could no longer tell himself he was only mildly infatuated with her; he desperately craved to have that intimate moment with her the way a drug addict needed their fix. The tugging on his heart he felt everytime she appeared truly vulnerable could no longer be passed off as casual empathy; he now felt an intense compulsion to protect her. Edward's desire to comfort his troubled client had manifested into a fierce and passionate conviction to heal the heart of a woman he could no longer deny having feelings for. It was with dread in his hollow chest that he recognized the severity of his condition and he swallowed heavily, knowing he couldn't admit it to himself.

His phone sounded yet again, and this time Winry took notice of the name that appeared on the screen before Edward was able to snatch up the device and silence it.

"Who's Noah?" Winry asked, not caring that she'd committed a social faux-pas by looking at another person's phone.

"It's not important. She's not a part of my life."

"She must be if she's calling you at 3 in the morning." Winry bit back. A text message chimed to Ed's phone, and he reached to turn it off as a lengthy trail of curses sounded in his mind. Winry's eyes didn't quite catch the message that popped up on his home screen, but she'd seen enough exclamation points and the words 'ignoring me' in all caps to piece the story together.

"You've obviously got a phone call to make and I need to get some shut eye, so I'll let you see yourself out." She said, unable to mask the bitterness in her voice. Ed's flame of burning irritation at Noah instantly roared to a bright blaze when he realized Winry assumed him to be a scumbag, and he found himself nearly stammering as he fumbled for the right words to explain himself.

"Shit, I… It's not what it looks like, Winry I—"

"—I think you were leaving?" She pressed with a nod to the front door. Something horrible crept into Edward's chest as he stood and retrieved his shirt from the dryer before exiting quietly, unable to look back at Winry. He wasn't ready to tell her about his life, but she would never trust him if he didn't. And so for the time being he would hide away what he'd discovered about himself that night, that for the first time in years he could see the glimmers of hope. He may be able to trust someone again. He may be able to love someone again.

It terrified him.

* * *

Winry punched her pillow in the dark as Ed's footsteps fell away from her door and she lashed out at herself.

"Fucking idiot," She muttered. "Being handsome and well-mannered doesn't make him honest. Don't be so stupid."

Shuffling to the front door Winry placed her hand on the deadbolt but stopped before locking it, remembering that he'd said he was afraid too. Vulnerability was something she'd seen in men almost every day in her line of work, but they still hated admitting it. Mostly her clients would put on a strong front until their procedures left them crying for their mothers. Edward didn't seem to fear being perceived as vulnerable -in fact he seemed rather familiar with it. She finally slid the bolt into place and returned to bed wondering if Edward might not be as calculating as she'd assumed. She wondered if he could be more genuine than she'd ever known a man to be, and maybe that was why she was frightened. Edward confused her. She didn't understand him, and it was normal for people to fear what they don't understand.

The rain continued to pelt the city, and as she slid beneath her covers white lightning flashed outside briefly illuminating her apartment and allowing her eyes to rest on the red hoodie hanging to dry on a nearby chair. Thunder boomed a moment later, beating home the reality that he was out there in the storm without any protection from the unforgiving weather and guilt gripped around Winry's heart. She was so busy being angry that she'd kicked Edward out into the storm that he'd already braved once to return her treasured planner. She fell back onto her pillows with a heavy sigh.

"Who knows, maybe I'm right and he's a jerk." Winry said to the ceiling. "Maybe he has a girlfriend that he's lying to and he's just being nice to me because he wants to get in my pants. I'm not gonna fall for it."

Satisfied with her clever deduction, Winry pulled the blankets around her and rolled over to get comfortable. But the booming thunder wouldn't fail to remind her of the man she'd just reduced to a drowned rat and she grimaced.

"…Or maybe he's not lying, and maybe I'm just a big, frigid bitch."

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry for being away longer than I said I would be! I hate to use the old excuse of life getting in the way, but it's unfortunately true. The good news is that most should be back to normal in a month or so, meaning that i'll have more time to update at my normal pace. The bad news is that until then I'll have to update a little more slowly, because I haven't finished writing this fic and I don't want to update too quickly and make mistakes. Rest assured as with all of my fics, I do not believe in leaving stories to rot without endings and I don't believe in making my readers wait a millennia for an update. So here's a little something to tide you over and I promise i'll be back in a week or two.

As always, thank you SO MUCH for reading and sharing your thoughts with me.


	9. Chapter 9

Chase the light,

whatever

and wherever

it may be

for you.

Chase it.

-TKG

* * *

A few days passed and Winry found herself standing in the small hallway outside Alchemy's door. She breathed deep, and pushed the door open into the studio to be met with low-level chatter and the soft buzzing of machines over Black Flag on the studio iPod. Sheska stood in her usual spot at the front desk, blowing bubblegum as her tattooed fingers flipped through a magazine. She looked up at Winry.

"Oh hey," She started. "You're Ed's client, Winry right?"

"Yea." Winry smiled and rolled a screw between her fingers in attempts to calm her nerves before pushing it in her pocket. "Is he here? I need to talk to him."

"He's with a client." Sheska started as she looked over her shoulder to the back of the studio. Winry followed her gaze and saw Edward and his client emerge from his booth and walk over to the tall mirror on the adjacent wall. The client was young, a man of no more than 18 and as he looked at the completed work on his upper arm his smile grew wide and his eyes became glassy. He exchanged more words with Ed before they disappeared back into the booth.

"He looks happy." Winry said, not only speaking of the customer, but of Edward as well. Sheska looked back at her and leaned on elbows casually.

"Yup. Ed's work is second to none. Part of what makes being tattooed by him so special isn't just his talent, its the experience itself. He always says that being a tattoo artist is half talent and half customer service; he makes genuine personal connections with his clients and it keeps them coming back. He really cares about people."

Winry considered the thought and agreed. Edward had made a lasting impact as a person, but she wondered how much authenticity he brought to their strange, quasi-relationship —whatever it might be. The look on his face the night she kicked him out didn't seem like someone who'd been caught red-handed. There was a defeated hopelessness about him, and she wondered if there was something there. She couldn't shake the feeling that Edward was more complicated than he let on, and maybe his passion for healing others forced him to hide away whatever was going on in his life. He seemed like someone who would sooner walk on hot coals before ever burdening someone else with his problems.

Sheska walked around the counter and lifted her shirt to show Winry her ribcage and the massive tattoo of a tree that adorned her. "This was the first tattoo Ed ever gave me. It was the first time I'd met him." She said. The intricate tree was tall with barren branches which twisted and climbed further than where Winry could see, disappearing under Sheska's bra and the roots reached below her skirt's waistline. As Winry examined it more closely she saw the name 'Boo Radley' on the tree's trunk.

"I'm a book worm." Sheska smiled. "To Kill A Mockingbird is my absolute favorite, I keep copies of it everywhere. Anyway, Ed was so great when he did this piece. I had just moved to the city and was feeling crazy homesick, and he was so professional and comforting, he became my first real friend in New York. I jumped for joy when he asked me to work the desk part time."

A cold thought dawned on Winry and her brow furrowed. "Does he make many house calls for his clients?" She asked, thinking back to all the special favors he'd done for her and wondering if there might be a motive. Sheska was as naturally perceptive as she was booksmart, and smirked at the blonde beauty.

"Ed's a people person so he becomes good friends with most of his clients, but you're different. He doesn't act like himself when it comes to you."

"How do you mean?"

"Well he's always talking about you, and lately he's been drawing flowers when he's in a good mood." Sheska said before blowing another bubblegum bubble and returning to her magazine. "He only used to do that when he was depressed or pissed off."

"Does he specialize in flowers or something?" Winry asked. It would explain why he had tracings of them everywhere. Sheska looked up from the glossy pages and gave Winry a curious look.

"I mean, he's great at them, but he doesn't do them for anyone. Any client asking for roses, cherry blossoms, you name it; he directs them to another artist. Everyone here was kind of shocked when we saw him outlining you for flowers." Winry bit back a gasp knowing that everyone in the shop had seen her scars, but her next thought stopped her from running away out of sheer humiliation.

"Wait, why doesn't Ed normally do flowers for clients?"

Sheska cocked her head to the side and almost gave a sarcastic response, but when she realized Winry wasn't being facetious her eyes widened fractionally and she pulled in a breath.

"Oh…I thought he would've told you by now? I guess you guys aren't as close as I thought."

A sharp barb sliced into Winry's chest, reminding her of the stormy night and all the things she still didn't know about the man who'd managed to elicit a quick kiss from her. Sheska's tattooed fingers drummed lightly on her closed mouth as she looked back at Winry in thought.

"…But then again…" She continued to theorize, "…He's tattooing flowers for you…"

"—Well this is a surprise." Edward interrupted as he walked upon the girls' conversation as his client went around the counter to pay. Sheska turned away to do her job, but kept an open ear as she counted the bills Edward's client handed her to put in the lockbox. Edward would've forced a smile out of politeness, but found himself unable to muster the gumption for even a task as small as a smirk. Seeing her standing in his shop looking smart and sexy in her fitted jeans and loose v-neck only further simmered his anger at his ex-wife. He'd come to the realization that he was ready to move on —he _wanted_ to move on, but couldn't. He'd managed to start a new life for himself but couldn't rest his demons because of Noah and her near constant state of inebriation always reminding him of what he'd lost. He had never been given the proper time to process, because she was always there, smearing his failures across his consciousness.

"What bring's you in?" He asked as he stood with thumbs hooked in his pockets casually, still happy to see her despite being thrown out of her apartment and into the rain. Winry twisted a lock of hair nervously.

"Can we talk?." She said. Ed nodded, before turning to thank his client for coming in and shake his hand. Once the coast was clear, he turned back to Winry.

"Follow me back." She moved after him but felt a hand hook under her elbow to pull her back.

"You better be the real deal." Sheska said low in Winry's ear. Winry stood motionless, watching Edward walk as Sheska's warning filled her ears. "You better be smart Winry. Edward likes you. If you don't feel the same you better keep it real with him. And If you do like him …well then you better not fucking hurt him." Her grip released and Winry caught up with Ed, rubbing her arm where Sheska held her and looking back over her shoulder at the spunky receptionist, who was back to reading her magazine as if nothing had happened. Ed was sitting on his rolling stool sanitizing his station as Winry entered his booth.

"So, what's up?" He asked cooly as he wiped down every surface with alcohol-soaked paper towels.

"I… I feel bad about the other night. I feel like maybe I should've given you a chance to explain yourself before I threw you out. It's the least I can do to thank you for returning my planner." Winry said, thinking back to the following morning and all the notes she'd scribbled into the planner during her phone call to the detectives. Her ex had been released on parole, but he seemed to be doing his part by calling in regularly and keeping out of trouble. The only thing still worrying Winry was how she couldn't prove it was him following her the night she ran to Edward for help. A text from an untraceable number and no other eye witnesses could do her no good. Edward was the only witness, but she couldn't pull him into her mess. Her ex had already ruined her life enough, she wouldn't let his craziness affect someone else, especially not someone she'd come to care about.

Edward sighed dejectedly as he wrestled with what to do, and it didn't help that he'd made eye contact with Jean across the room who was holding up a sheet of paper with the words 'TELL HER' scribbled across in black sharpie. Havoc and Greed had both heard the story of what happened the night of the storm, and tried with no avail to convince Edward that being honest with Winry was the best shot at making things work with her. He didn't want to hear it.

"There's things about my life I'm not ready to share. I get the feeling you might be in a similar situation." He said, thinking of her scars and blatantly obvious PTSD. She nodded slightly, before reminding herself that she needed to be firm with him but not aggresive; she still needed him as a client and she needed him to finish her tattoo. Against her better judgement, she liked him; and it was becoming more and more obvious that the feelings were mutual. But she would not be played for a fool, so without hesitation or mental filter, she blurted what she needed to know.

"Are you in a relationship with someone?"

Edward paused before rising from his seat to look at her. He knew if he had any hopes of keeping her around, he needed to at least be up front with how he felt about her; though he was still trying to figure out exactly what his feelings were.

"No, I'm not in a relationship. I promise. That phone call the other night was someone from my past who I'm trying to keep there, she's just making it difficult." He looked down into blue eyes and it happened again —that strange shift in the air that made the rest of the world fall away, and he wanted to kiss her. He pushed down the urge and opted for something less intense.

"Are you busy tonight? Wanna meet me for a drink?" He asked, feeling the precarious nature of the rickety limb he'd just walked out on, but he found relief in her soft smile.

"Sure, I'm closing up at 10."

Edward leaned into Winry and pressed a small peck to her cheek, sending a wave of warmth through her and as they parted ways some invisible force coaxed his left hand and her right to come together for a promising squeeze before releasing.

* * *

Winry was alone in the shop, closing up for the night when a loud pounding came from the front door. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and looked towards the glass front door at a woman in distress. The woman continued to hammer on the glass, and Winry strode forward quickly to unlock the door and open it ajar.

"I'm sorry, we're closed. Do you have an emergency?" Winry asked the woman. Her height and weight were similar to Winry's, but her features stood apart. Her hair was deep chocolate, falling over her shoulders and down her back in a thick mass of waves and tangles. Mocha skin was smooth and spot-free, but lacked healthy vibrancy and her large dark eyes were sad and hollow with circles framing from below. She paused as she stared at Winry -her sad gaze shifting to anger and she gave the door a violent shove, knocking Winry to the floor as she stormed in to stand over her.

"What the hell's so special about you?!" The woman hollered with fists shaking at her sides. Winry gaped up at her from where she lay on the shop floor, frightened and unsure what to do. The woman wore a simple blue sundress with no pockets, so it didn't appear that she was armed.

"You think you can just waltz in and ruin everything?!" The woman screamed. Her eyes became wide and wild as she shifted back and forth from foot to foot, shaking angry fists and pointing fingers in a manner nothing short of grand-standing. "Well you can't. You're nothing fancy. You're not gonna break us, we got _history_. We're a _family_. You think you can win his attention with your blonde hair? You think some big boobs are gonna get him hard? Think again bitch!"

Winry carefully got to her feet and pulled her phone from her pocket as the woman began to pace frantically, driving her hands into her knotted hair and muttering under her breath. Winry opened her Safetrek app and pressed the button once before letting it go, knowing that help would arrive any minute; she just had to keep the woman occupied and at a distance.

"Who are you?" Winry asked carefully. The woman stopped her pacing and scoffed, obviously offended.

"If you think I'll believe that you've never heard of me then you're a dumber floozy than I thought. You know who I am."

"I promise I don't. Why are you here?"

The angry woman barked in response, "I fucking told you! Back off! He's _MINE_ , you understand that?!"

"Who's yours? I don't know what you're talking about."

The woman stomped forward and shoved Winry again, this time driving her into the nearby table's edge before Winry's knees gave out and she fell to the ground once more. The crazed woman stood over her and grabbed Winry's arm in a vice grip.

"I'm talking about Edward."

Footsteps sounded from the doorway.

"Hands up! Now!" Yelled a police officer from the entrance. Winry turned her head to tell the officer the woman wasn't armed, but never got the words out before a heavy blow to the side of her head dulled her focus on the world and she slumped to the concrete as the police officer and the woman became a scuffling blur. There was some cursing, the distinctive clicking of handcuffs, and a strong voice radioing for help when Winry's mind went dark.

* * *

A/N: Look what I did there.

Thank you all for the reads and reviews. More on the way.


	10. Chapter 10

The ghost that haunts romantics,

is not what was,

rather what could have been.

-Michael Xavier

* * *

Riza Mustang sat on the edge of her mattress at 2 am with her service dog in her lap. The nightmares were coming less frequently, but that didn't make them any easier to endure. The years she spent at war serving alongside Edward would play over and over in her mind, but the PTSD she suffered from was worse than what some of her fellow soldiers were dealing with. They had all seen battle. They had all killed. But Riza was a top-level sniper, and spent extended periods of time hunting her prey from a distance, analyzing their faces in her scope and looking directly into their eyes before pulling the trigger. It was a hard life, only made harder by hearing the news from back home that sent her and her fellow soldiers into a tailspin; the news that shattered Edward's world. She was still haunted not only by the news, but by the look on Edward's face.

Her husband was no stranger to the signs of depression and anxiety, and while he'd found his own methods for healthy coping from his days as Riza and Ed's Commanding Officer, he'd noticing the trouble his wife was trying to hide. She easily concealed her emotions from many, but nothing got past Roy Mustang. He slid out of bed and walked to her side, not bothering to turn on the lights.

"Is he helping at all?" Roy asked and he smoothed a hand through his wife's blonde hair. The small black and white pup was a gift to his wife, with the hopes it might ease some of the tension hardening around her heart. Riza rubbed her tired brown eyes before looking back at her husband's worried face and messy mop of black hair. She gave a small shrug in response.

"Maybe. I'm not quite sure yet, but I like him. He's warm and soft."

"Does he have a name yet?"

Riza nodded before standing to peck her husband's scruffy cheek.

"I think I'll sleep easier now."

Almost on que, Roy's cell phone began to ring from its spot on his nightstand, and his heart fell heavy as he crossed the room to answer it. Being the police commissioner was a vastly interesting job, coming with intriguing cases, high connections and a decent salary. But when his phone rang in the middle of the night it only meant that a long and difficult day was ahead of him. Detective Denny Brosh was on the other end.

"Sir, I'm afraid it's Noah again." He told Roy. Mustang sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, wondering when the woman would get her shit together and just leave Edward be. The man had suffered enough.

"What did she do this time?" Roy asked, thinking back to 6 months prior when Noah's coke-fueled adrenaline helped her throw a brick through Ed's 2nd floor storefront window. Roy was Ed's Commanding Officer, and while at war was dealt the heavy blow of having to deliver Edward the news that essentially ruined his life. It was 4 years ago, and the sound of his subordinate's sobs of anguish still flooded his mind on occasion.

"She's in handcuffs downtown at an automail shop. I got a radio from officer Breada requesting backup after he responded to a distress call. Apparently she broke in and attacked an engineer."

"Does Ed know?"

"No, you're the first person I've called."

Roy shouldered his phone to his ear as he began pulling pants on. "I'll meet you at the precinct."

After hanging up he pulled on a white button-up and looked longingly at his beautiful wife, whom he'd loved in secrecy for nearly ten years before retiring from the army and finally marrying her. It had been years since they'd become civilians, and at times it was still an adjustment. Roy touched Riza's cheek.

"Don't wait for me, Noah's causing trouble again. I have to call Fullmetal and fill him in."

A warm kiss fell on Riza's cheek and she returned to bed with her puppy as Roy left. As she sat scratching the pup's ears, she thought of Edward and then of Noah, and how as much as she empathized with Noah for being a woman beyond help and so lost with grief that she couldn't pull herself out of her destructive behavior, she felt even worse pity for Edward. Edward had been too good to Noah for many years; he'd treated her far better than she deserved and the best thing he'd ever done was attempt again and again to sever all ties, but Noah just wouldn't let the poor man be. Riza had never been a deeply religious person, but even more than praying to hold onto her own sanity, she prayed for Edward's ability to retain his. On nights like this she would pray as hard as she did at war 4 years ago, when she watched Edward's face change to a horror she'd never witnessed before as he realized his life was over.

Riza laid on her side to sleep once again, and the dog happily curled into her as she patted it.

"Good boy, Black Hayate."

* * *

Edward stood at the bar in the William Barnacle Tavern sipping on a glass of Grande Absente with a dark scowl and an even darker mood. Every second he stood there waiting for her made him feel like a bigger idiot, and he was lashing himself internally for thinking things had been resolved. Winry didn't trust him —if she did she would've shown up. Yet here Edward was, in a dark and narrow bar watching silent movies projected onto the back wall and drinking absinthe alone. The woman tending bar was flirting with him mercilessly as she dripped ice water over the torched sugar cubes perched on absinthe spoons over goblets; her efforts never faltered by his failure to engage, and while he admitted to himself that she was pretty his eyes continually swerved to the arched doorway hoping the evening summer breeze would blow in a far more beautiful being. Edward's hopes would be dashed. He'd received a response when he texted her where to meet him, but when he called after the first half hour, the second half hour, the third half hour he'd gotten no answer. He downed the rest of the green, anise-flavored liquid and thumbed out a few bills onto the bar when his phone vibrated in his pocket. His heart leaping, Ed pulled out his phone frantically only to be dissapointed again when the caller wasn't Winry.

"Your ex-wife needs to be locked up. Or labotimized. Maybe both." Roy said upon Edward's greeting. Ed sighed heavily and raked a hand through his hair.

"Jesus… what now?"

"She attacked someone. She's in a holding cell downtown, says she needs you to bail her out?"

Ed nearly snorted in response at the absurdity. "That's a lie, she's got shitloads of money —provided she hasn't pissed it all away on drugs and vodka. She's a trust fund kid, let her bail herself out."

"And if she doesn't have the money?" Mustang asked. Ed rolled his eyes, thoroughly done with the day and already partly over the day to come.

"Then let her rot there. I'm sick of picking up the pieces just so she can come stomping in to send it all down in flames again. Some people just can't be saved, and she's never gonna get her shit together if she's not held accountable."

"i agree." Said Roy as he looked at the disheveled mess that was Noah sitting on the floor of the holding cell. "I was really just calling out of courtesy. Are you at the shop?"

"No," Ed responded as he exited the tavern and began to walk home. "I've been chasing the green fairy. I was supposed to meet up with a friend but she never showed. I think she's kinda pissed at me."

"Anyone I know?"

"Nah she's a client, her name's Winry."

Roy stopped his pacing and looked back at Noah in the cell. Winry was not a very common name.

"Is your Winry an engineer by chance?"

It was Ed's turn to halt in surprise. "Yea. She's fixing my arm for me in a few days. How'd you know?"

Mustang's mouth set in a grim line when the pieces all clicked together. Noah wasn't talking without her legal counsel present and Winry was at the hospital so he hadn't gotten the full story yet, but now the picture was becoming clear.

"Shit…" Roy said. "There's the connection. Unless I'm somehow wrong, it looks like your friend is the person Noah attacked."

Panic sliced into Edward.

"Fuck! Is she okay?!"

"I believe so, they took her to Beth Israel a few hours ago." Edward hung up without a final word and began to run up the length of St. Marks Place. Whizzing past the neon signs of punk stores, head shops, and ramen takeout joints, he stopped when the street turned into 8th and crossed over Cooper and Lafayette, and looked around frantically for a cab with it's light on. As he waited he tried Winry's cell again, receiving no response and his heart thumped in double-time, and as much as he feared for her well-being he was equally fearful that after that night, she would never want to see him again.

* * *

3 days had driven Edward to near psychosis with worry for Winry, having been turned away by hospital staff when he arrived because only family members were admitted to see patients in ICU. Hearing the term 'ICU' only increased his panic and half a dozen phone calls to the hospital, Mustang and Officer Hymans Breada gave Ed enough information to piece together what happened. He was mortified, horrified —absolutely beside himself with anger when he'd learned that a large iron wrench was Noah's weapon of choice to use against Winry's skull. Noah could have killed her. As he had suspected, Noah was trying to get Ed to post her bail but posted her own money when she realized he wasn't coming for her and as much as he wanted to ask why she would do this, Edward knew he would never get a coherent response from her and he'd only leave wanting to wring her neck. It boiled his blood further when he'd learned from Mustang that Winry had no intention of pressing charges.

Winry was ready to return to work by the end of the week having never spoken to Edward; every call and text from him would go unanswered because she knew if she picked up the phone, she'd only start screaming at him. She'd acknowledged to herself that Edward obviously didn't control the actions of other people, but she was more than curious to know exactly what he had done to inspire such rage in the woman who claimed ownership of him. She'd asked detectives if they knew the relationship between Edward and Noah, to which they all curtly responded "No.", and yet when she became more specific and asked if Noah was Edward's wife, Roy Mustang, Denny Brosh, and Hymans Breada all gave the same short response. No. Nothing else. Just "No".

It pissed her off immensely, knowing she was being lied to. Adding to her fury were the flowers. Every day little hand-written cards with 'I'm sorry' and 'I can explain' came nestled in pink tissue paper that lined inside the crisp white boxes of long-stem roses which where delivered to her apartment. Every. Single. Day. Her phone was filled texts from Edward asking if she was alright, begging her to answer his calls, and as the hours ticked by during her first day back to work she burned with anger as the images of Noah standing over her flooded her thoughts. Noah's crazed eyes as she screamed at Winry only shot her back to the hollering she'd heard from her ex-boyfriend, and the way he used to knock her to the ground as a show of dominance. In attempt to drive away the haunting imagery from her mind, Winry kept herself immensely busy even working through lunch with her eyes set firmly on her goal of not allowing herself to cry about it. So busy in fact, that she didn't notice the bell chime over the shop door as someone entered, and as she turned around to grab a screwdriver she was stopped in her tracks by wide and fearful golden eyes.

Edward could swear his heart nearly stopped and his hands raked into his hair at the sight of her. Common sense escaping him, he strode behind the counter and reached for Winry only to be shot back into rational thinking by her equally frightened expression as she lurched back from him, her screwdriver clattering to the floor as her back met the wall. Nothing was said. More than once Ed opened his mouth to speak, but found words failing him as he looked at Winry. What seemed like the obvious reason she had to avoid him before was suddenly paired with a new reasoning as he watched her frighted eyes morph to anger and then something so much sadder. She didn't want him to see her this way. Ed was more careful in his next movements, reaching out slowly with flesh fingers toward her, silently asking permission to touch her. The pounding of Winry's heart wouldn't allow her feet to move or her back to leave the wall it pressed against, but as Edward carefully reached for her she found her eyelids becoming heavy, and rested her head back as her eyes slid closed and Ed's warm fingertips softly skimmed the purple and yellow bruise lining her temple and occipital bone. Even more alarming to Ed were the spots of blood from broken vessels in her eye, sullying what was normally such a clear and radiant blue. She looked at him again, unsure of what to say or what to expect. He surprised Winry as he took her hand in his steel one, his movements still slow and careful, and raised it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles, never breaking his eye contact with her.

"She's my ex. I divorced her 5 years ago. …Winry …I'm so sorry…" He said softly before waiting, silently begging her to say something. The anger Winry felt bubbling under the surface instantly quieted upon seeing Edward standing before her with horrified eyes, and the embarrassment she felt for appearing weak to him quickly shifted to sadness when she thought of how he must feel. That was always her problem; every psychologist she'd ever seen said she cared too much for the feelings of others and spent so much time trying to fix everyone else that she rarely stopped to care for herself. Suddenly, she didn't care if she cried; not for herself, but for him. It would destroy her if her ex hurt someone she cared for because of her, and it was unmistakable that the feelings she had for Ed were mutual. As he softly apologized and stood waiting for her reaction, Winry felt a new force surge her away from the wall. Something desperate, something painful and longing, and as she gripped Ed's hand and fell into his arms she realized what the strange sensation was: the need to be cared for. She'd spent so long being far too altruistic -so much that she'd forgotten what it felt like to surrender to vulnerability willingly, and with that knowledge releasing its tight grip around her heart, Winry buried her face into Ed's strong chest as his arms came around her and a tear fell down her cheek as he spoke again.

"None of this was supposed to happen. I've been trying to get away from her for years and she just… none of this was supposed to happen Winry, I swear to you."

* * *

An exhausted Winry pushed open her apartment door that night around eleven-thirty and shuffled in with yet another long white box that had been waiting with the doorman upon her arrival. She made a mental note to tell Ed to stop spending so much money on flowers for something that wasn't his doing. Kicking off her boots once inside Winry unzipped her jumpsuit halfway, pulling the arms to tie around her waist and stood in her makeshift bedroom clad in her bra. Her window ac was broken and she didn't have the money yet to fix or replace it, and the 88 degree weather was only making life harder. She pulled open the white box to another long-stem pink rose: a slim satin ribbon tied a small notecard to its stem and she couldn't stop her smile. They had sat together in the shop garage after closing and Ed explained that he hadn't seen Noah for 3 years, and was trying whatever he could to sever all ties from her. Unfortunately Noah's on-going battle with the bottle was making her unafraid to leave rambling messages about killing herself on Ed's voicemail and she often boarded the amtrak from Philadelphia to New York's Penn Station solely for the purpose of showing up to see what Edward was doing. The divorce did nothing to affect her feelings of ownership over Edward, and he'd done everything short of filing a restraining order to get her to leave him be.

"She's officially gone too far this time." He said to Winry that night at Garfiel's. "I'm asking you —I begging you to please file a restraining order. Please Winry. I can't act as a supporting witness but Officer Breada saw her attack you."

Winry'd had enough painful experience in the past with incompetent government officials refusing to approve her requests for restraining orders against her ex, and asked Edward why this time would be any different.

"I have friends in high places. I know Breada and Commissioner Mustang personally; now that Noah's actually hurt someone I know they'll push through whatever paperwork you want."

Winry's mood soured at the memory as she dropped the rose on her bed and moved to the kitchen to microwave leftovers. It would appear that having friends in high places could get you anywhere in life. Her ex was a cop, so no one bothered to help her when she told them she feared for her life. At first she never had bruises, only his drug-induced threats that kept her up at night. Having friends in the government was great if you needed evidence that would put you away for life to suddenly disappear, allowing you to claim insanity for your actions and therefore become eligible for parole. Winry wondered if these high-ranking friends of Edward's would help him lie in order to live two secret lives; one where he was single and one where he had a distraught wife at home waiting for him to be good to her.

The microwave beeped and Winry removed her hot food to sit on the counter and cool for a moment, and as she waited she walked back over to the pink rose on her bed. It was beautiful, half-bloomed and smelled of springtime, and she decided to call Edward to thank him for the floral onslaught, secretly hoping that would be the end of it. He answered on the second ring.

*Is everything alright?* He asked.

"I'm fine," Winry said, rolling the rose between her thumb and index finger carefully between thorns as she slowly shuffled across the wooden floors. "I just wanted to thank you for checking in on me today, and for sending all the roses. They're lovely."

Winry breathed in the bloom's scent as she waited for Ed's reply, but was met with stale silence.

*What roses?* Curiosity piqued, she looked toward the vase on her bedside table with the accumulating collection of pink roses she'd gotten.

"The pink ones, Ed. You've been sending them everyday." Winry smiled as his attempts at modesty as she looked down at the flower she held. More stale silence.

*Winry…* Ed started as Winry held up the rose to angle it and see the message typed on the card. *…I didn't send you any flowers.*

Her blood froze in her veins as she read the card:

' **I'm watching you**.'

* * *

A/N: thank you all for the wonderful feedback, more soon!


	11. Chapter 11

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.

They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.

They are messengers of overwhelming grief…

and unspeakable love.

-Washington Irving

* * *

Edward stood on the stone stoop outside the building's main entrance and gazed down Wooster St, waiting for Winry to appear. She tried to feign indifference on the phone when she realized the flowers were from her ex, but Ed knew she was scared and insisted she sleep at Alchemy that night. Winry was accustomed to being somewhat tough in her line of work, but she didn't need to pretend with Edward and it would do her no good anyway -he was far too perceptive. His phone rang in his hand and he answered on the first ring.

"Where are you?" He demanded.

*I just got off the subway, I'll be there in about 15 minutes.* Winry responded as she strode quickly down Houston St toward Wooster.

Anger bristled in Ed's chest.

"Not good enough. Hail a cab if you see one, I want you here in less than 5 minutes."

Ed was in no mood for game playing or social graces; he was getting closer and closer to putting Winry's puzzle together and tonight he'd gotten a prize piece. He knew enough that she was afraid of this ex of hers, but now that flowers where coming to her apartment, it meant the guy knew where she was living. Ed stayed on the phone with Winry while she dressed and quickly threw clothes in a bag and didn't hang up until she was on the subway, and he immediately called Roy and asked him to look into the situation. It would likely take a day or two for a reply.

A yellow cab slowed to a stop on the cobblestone street in front of Edward, and he watched Winry hand the driver a bill before angling out and the car drove off.

"4 minutes, how's that?" She asked as she approached Edward and their hands instinctively joined without a second thought.

"Fine, now that you're here. Were you followed?"

"I don't think so. Thanks for letting me stay."

"Honestly Winry," Edward said as he ushered her through the door into the foyer and unlocked the second door into the entryway. "Theres no way in hell I'd let you stay home by yourself."

They climbed the stairs together and Ed unlocked Alchemy's door allowing Winry to step in before he followed her and slid the deadbolt in place behind them. Alone again in the quiet darkness of the studio, memories of the first night she'd come rushing to him pierced the forefront of their thoughts as they looked at each other. Edward reached for her hand again and gently pulled her along to the back of the studio and into the kitchen. Linoleum floors met walls of white subway tile and countertops and cabinets were basic and utilitarian. A beat up sofa sat against the wall to the far right and faced a small, wall-mounted flat screen with a coffee table between the two.

Ed opened the freezer looking for an icepack and grimaced.

"This kitchen is the last thing I'm ever gonna dump good money into, the way my artists leave it all the time. Bunch of shitpigs." He muttered as he looked past the science project and found a bag of frozen peas, before handing it to Winry.

"Your eye still looks a little swollen." He said as he grabbed a bottle of scotch from a cabinet along with two glasses and flipped the light off. They opened the red door adjacent to the kitchen and climbed the set of stairs up to Ed's loft as Winry replied,

"It's gone down a lot in the past day, still hurts though." She hadn't meant to, but the comment twisted a knife in Ed's chest as he poured them each a glass and handed her one. Instinctively he pulled her closer to better see her injury but found himself as usual, transfixed by how stunning she was. The low light of his loft only flattered her high cheek bones, her glowing skin, the lustre of her buttery blonde hair, and those pouty lips that he desperately wanted to kiss again, having not been given the gift of truly tasting her the first time his mouth briefly pressed to hers. But the timing was all wrong, and he wanted her to feel safe with him; it was his best shot at getting her to believe that he truly wasn't lying to her.

"I really am sorry for what Noah did to you." He said softly. Winry gazed up at his gold eyes, soft and saddened as he looked at the bruises on her face. She wondered if his eyes were this sad the first time he'd seen her scars.

"I know you are. You don't control her Ed, even if her anger is …justified—"

"—It isn't." He snapped, before taking a breath to gather himself. "There's no justification for her anger whatsoever. We're not together, I haven't seen her in years. Every now and then she just has these… episodes."

Edward's handsome face seemed to grow only more appealing when the muscles contorted into a frustrated scowl; the angular lines sharpened more as he sipped his scotch in deep thought. Winry sipped hers along with him and kicked off her boots before shuffling over to sit on his mattress on the floor. She patted the spot next to her.

"Why would Noah think you're still together?" Winry asked. Edward joined her on the bed and crossed his outstretched legs at the ankles, leaning back on his elbows.

"That's the thing, she knows better. She's not psychotic, she's a drunk and a drug addict. Even when she's high she knows we're not together, but she wants us to be. That's why she freaks out, because she'll never get her way. I'll never go back to her."

"Is her addiction the reason you guys broke up?"

Edward stilled and his eyes slid toward Winry. He gave a careful answer.

"Partially. This conversation is feeling a little one-sided, whats the deal with your ex?"

Winry focused her eyes across the room and breathed deep, wishing they could've spent more time talking about Ed's baggage instead of hers, but she knew she couldn't keep running to him without being honest. Even if he was lying and had a secret life with someone else, he had been more than kind to Winry and she decided to take the first real leap of faith she'd risked in years. She only prayed it wouldn't blow up in her face; she figured the worst that could happen by telling Ed the truth would be him getting freaked out and not wanting to be in the middle of her drama. If he asked her to leave and not come back, she would be incredibly hurt, but she would live. She took another swallow of scotch and as the amber fluid warmed inside her chest she turned to Ed.

"About 4 years ago, I started dating a man named Frank Archer. He was a cop and we met on the subway when he asked me for directions. We clicked and fell in love quickly, and moved in together after only 2 months of dating. Things were fine for the first few months, but when he suffered an injury in the line of duty he became addicted to pain killers. I tried to help him, but he became a bigger monster with each week that passed. The pain killers turned into bigger drugs, and when he was promoted at work the pressure and long hours took a toll while simultaneously boosting his already inflated ego. He liked power."

Edward watched Winry carefully, studying her features for signs of PTSD like what he'd seen at her apartment the night of the storm. She set down her empty glass on the floor next to his and pulled her knees to her chest as she kept talking.

"It never sat well with him that I was an engineer, but he never told me that until we were living together. He preferred the idea that I be home cooking and cleaning; the idea of an empowered woman was threatening to him. He also hated that my job involves me being around men, many of them naked for procedures. Frank was always convinced I would sleep with someone at work. His method of insuring that I never undressed in front of anyone was by pushing me into the edges of tables and countertops, rolling over in his sleep and 'accidentally' elbowing me in the ribs; he made lots of small bruises on my body at first, but as his drug habit worsened along with his jealousy, he became more violent. The bruises started getting bigger."

"Why didn't you leave?" Ed interjected, fighting down the anger pulling on his heart as he sat up.

"I was afraid to." Winry said, looking at Ed as he inched closer to her. "He always threatened me, said if I left he would find me. If anyone ever helped me get away, he'd hurt them. He used to stand over me hollering that if I ever became involved with another man, that he would kill us both."

"Where were the police in all of this?"

Winry scoffed. "Are you kidding? They were all on his side. He was a superior officer to a lot of people, and they all stood to lose their jobs if they went against him. They helped him in any way they could, they even made some very important evidence disappear when I needed it most—"

Her hand quickly flew to her mouth when she realized she'd let something slip. Edward wasn't about to ignore it for propriety's sake.

"What evidence?" Ed demanded. Winry shook her head but Edward captured her hand in his and bore his eyes into her. "Winry tell me what happened."

She continued to shake her head, her mind filled with the frightening images of Frank Archer's dark eyes and filthy dark hair, his pale skin flushed red from inebriation as he pushed her to the ground and screamed at her for wearing those tight jumpsuits and for not giving him painkillers when he demanded them. The stench of his breath as he threatened to kill whoever she might be fucking, before saying how he would just have to hit her harder to make her body ugly, so no one would want her. She was his property, and he would sooner destroy her than see her become someone else's. Edward grasped her by the shoulders in attempts to make her focus.

"Winry you're safe here, nothing's going to happen. I swear I won't let anything happen to you."

Winry's eyes watered as she croaked softy, "He's watching me. That's what he always used to say. He would hit me, and tell me to never be with another man, because he was watching… Edward he knows where I live. I don't know how but he knows where I live."

"You'll stay here."

"This isn't safe either!" She wailed. "I know it was him following me that night, and he saw me come here! He saw you waiting for me! He's going to come after us!"

Edward pulled Winry into his arms and held her, feeling her heart pounding from within her chest.

"…I saw what was following you that night." He said calmly to her. "Not in detail, but I'm telling you it wasn't human. The silouhette …it was more like a machine."

Winry's brow furrowed in confusion. It made no sense, but she knew it was Archer following her that night from the text he sent her, the one about the jumpsuit that he wanted her only wearing for him. She pulled back slowly from Edward, but slid her hands to rest in his.

"You must've gotten help at some point." Ed reasoned. "Didn't you say he's out on parole? What sent him to jail?"

Winry eyes became wide. "I can't tell you that."

"Yes you can."

"No… You don't understand, Archer's out now. He'll kill anyone I tell, he'll probably kill me for putting him away. I can't tell you Edward!" Winry's frantic heart silently begged Edward to stop asking questions she was still terrified to answer, but she was fighting a losing battle. Edward's hold on her hands tightened ever so slightly as his suspicions grew, but he simply couldn't fathom what his mind had deduced without Winry confirming it. He needed that confirmation if he was going to tell Mustang to go after this guy.

"He had to have fucked up big time if he was doing drugs and abusing you but not being jailed; what did he do that the force finally couldn't look away from, Winry?"

Winry tried to pull her hands from Ed's but his hold was firm, as she squeezed her eyes shut as the first tears fell.

"He'll kill you Edward." She cried. "If I tell you he'll kill you… He'll find me and he'll do it again…"

"Do what again?"

"…Nothing—"

"—He made them, didn't he!?" Edward barked, snapping Winry's eyes open to gape at him in shock as the tears pooled at the corners of her eyes and caught in her long lashes. Edward's blood boiled and he grabbed her by the shoulders again. "He made the scars! That's what you're afraid of isn't it?! Tell me the truth!"

Fear shot through Winry as she suddenly remembered how it felt to be shaken by the shoulders and hollered at, but she fought against her tears to take a full breath as she looked at Edward.

"…I had saved enough money for a flight to Nashville…" She trembled. "…But he came home from work early, he walked in on me packing my suitcase… he'd taken bathsalts that day…"

Suddenly Edward wanted her to stop -his furious expression slackening into a state of wide-eyed horror. His mind screamed at himself to stop her but his body wouldn't respond, and nausea crept into his gut as his head was filled with the imagery of her story. He desperately wanted to be wrong, but his assumptions were spot-on.

"…He held me down…" Winry whispered as the tears fell, "…and he cut me with a kitchen knife."

Edward felt his heart crack in half and he pulled her to him again as she cried, hating himself for what he'd just done. His hand smoothed through her hair, and he held her in his arms until exhaustion rendered her a rag doll. Scooping her up and walking on knees across the mattress to lay her down, Ed paused only briefly to thumb the tear stains from her cheeks as he blinked back his own, and as he turned to leave he was stopped by her hand grabbing his, silently asking him to stay. He almost protested, but considered that upsetting her so much could induce nightmares for her, it was the least he could do to be there to comfort her if she woke that night in tears again.

Kicking his boots off Edward moved to turn off the light and peeled his shirt off to sleep in his black pants before crawling in bed toward Winry. The scenario was far from what he'd pictured it would be like to slide onto his mattress with his gorgeous client waiting for him, and as he settled on his side with his arm under his pillow, he took a risk and curled automail around her waist, pulling her back flush to him. She wasn't quite asleep yet, just on the brink as she craned back to see him and he leaned over her.

"I shouldn't have made you tell me." He whispered in the dark, gold eyes dimmed to darkened amber as his faced hovered mere inches from hers. Winry said nothing as she gazed back from hooded, sleepy eyes, and reached up to run her fingers through his hair, sending it tumbling from its restraint in a golden curtain over his shoulder. The feel of her fingers on his scalp sent a small wave through him, pulling his face even closer to hers. Ed's mouth only just barely brushed hers, close enough to touch but far enough to not really be a kiss, and the breaths they shared just like before drove him mad. He was so damn close, one tilt of the head, one tiny movement and he would claim her sweet lips for himself.

But he couldn't do it. Not when she was so vulnerable. She'd completely exposed herself to him, he couldn't destroy the trust he'd earned by sexualizing this moment. Yet, it didn't feel sexual to him. It felt far deeper, more intense than any want he'd ever had. And so as horrible as it was, he angled away and pressed a kiss to her brow instead before settling behind her, curling his arm around her waist and breathing in the smell of her hair to lull him to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Edward was noticeably distracted as he sat on the couch in the kitchen with his coffee and macbook as he answered emails —or at least, tried to. For every sentence or two he typed, his mind flooded back to the beauty fast asleep in his bed upstairs. He'd woken up more than once during the night, first by his usual nightmares and again for seemingly no reason at all. Concern for Winry bore the blame for his exhaustion. Ed abandoned his work for a moment and shut his laptop as he stood and exited the room to retrieve something from his office. Once settled again in the kitchen with his pencil and sketch pad, his thoughts were consumed by art. He often found his inspiration in the workings of Rembrandt or Titian, but also found charm in the dark fantasy of Stephen Mackey, the cheekiness of Mackenzie Thorpe, the almost dream-like feeling Jeremy Miranda brings to oil paintings. It wasn't long, however, until Van Gogh with his sunflowers and Monet with his irises, Dali and his ship with bright pink blooms for sails would coast in on the seas of Edward's consciousness and send him right back into the misery with his own interpretations of such beauty.

And yet, for the first time in years, he was not miserable. Edward lined and shaded multiple stems, buds, and blooms on his sketch pad without feelings of anger or resentment. He did so without the crushing guilt. In fact, he felt almost nothing. A prized relief for him -to have such peace during a practice so essential for his craft when he was normally tortured by it. Several minutes passed and floorboards above him creaked, signaling movement from his loft and he heard the door at the top of the stairs open followed by the soft patting of careful footsteps down the stairs. When Winry appeared in the frame of the kitchen door Ed nodded for her to come in and he rose to pour her some coffee. His movements were calm and fluid as he fixed her coffee with sugar and no cream, having paid attention the day they were at the diner, and he handed her a mug before easing beside her on the couch.

"Hi." She said quietly after the first sip. He grinned a little and picked up his sketch pad to resume.

"Hi yourself. Sleep well?"

Winry nodded as she watched his hand move over the paper leaving faint grey pencil lines and admired the irises he drew.

"How long have you been doing this?" She asked, referring to his craft rather than how long he'd been sitting there that morning.

"Well…I've been drawing since I was a kid. I was always interested in art. I started apprenticing under a guy named Scar when I was in high school. He ran a shop a mile away from where I went to school, so everyday I'd walk there and stay until closing."

"How did your parents feel about that?" Winry asked. Ed's sketching never faltered as he bluntly replied,

"My old man hated it. My mom died when I was a kid and Hohenheim was never around, too busy working to ever notice me and my brother. My brother stayed after school too so when he was done with his studies he'd meet me at Scar's shop and someone would give us a lift home."

Edward never looked up at Winry as he spoke of his childhood, only kept his eyes firmly focused on his sketching and Winry soon become hypnotized by his motions.

"Scar is still a good friend of mine today, he comes in as a guest artist now and again. I owe him a lot, he was there for me when my old man wasn't."

* * *

Ed and Winry stood outside on the street together, knowing they had to part but not wanting to. A small part of Winry wanted to crawl under a rock and die when she opened her eyes that morning and remembered how she'd told Edward everything. She'd always sworn to herself that she would never tell anyone again, it was why she was getting the scars covered; hiding the evidence would allow her to finally move on and not have to worry about how others would treat her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously and avoided Ed's eyes. She hadn't made eye contact with him all morning, so afraid that he wouldn't look at her the same way. She didn't want to see pity on his face. She'd suffered an unimaginable trauma, but didn't want others to see because she didn't want to be treated like a delicate flower. She'd grown up a tough girl, and Archer was the first person to ever make her feel that she was powerless. The thought that others might view her the same way was the real fear in her heart.

"Are you gonna look at me?" He finally asked after they stood on the curbside for several minutes, saying nothing. "I'm sorry I pushed you last night, I know you're probably pissed at me and—"

"—I'm not mad." Winry's head shot up in surprise, having quickly forgotten her aversion to eye contact. Ed's eyes remained the same as before; the intense alertness and otherworldly beauty was still there, and she felt a weight lift when she didn't find pity in his gaze. "I just haven't told anyone about me in a long time. I don't want you to treat me differently."

Ed shrugged to feign some indifference. "So you've suffered; we all have. I'm not gonna treat you any differently aside from just making sure you're okay."

Something swelled inside Winry's chest, and she stepped forward and hugged Edward. Crisp earthiness invaded her senses as she breathed him in, loving the feel of his black shirt against her cheek and his beating heart beneath it. His arms only held her for a moment before she pulled back and he squeezed her hand.

"Are you alright to get to work? I'd take you myself but I have a client coming in soon." Edward said. A soft smile relaxed him and she shook her head.

"Don't worry I'll be fine."

"Do you want to sleep here again tonight? I don't mind." He asked, secretly hoping she would agree but was gently turned down.

"I have a lot to catch up on, I'll probably wind up just sleeping at work tonight. Don't worry, my boss installed a heavier door after the whole Noah incident so it's pretty safe," Winry reasoned. "Besides, I have to get ready for your maintenance tomorrow."

Her chipper change in attitude revealed the true colors that Edward admired her for, and he groaned inwardly knowing that if an engineer was this excited to get their hands on you, it meant you were in for a dramatic evening. He smirked at her and pecked her cheek.

"Call me if you need anything, otherwise I'll see you tomorrow night."

As Winry turned to leave a tiny voice chimed in the back of Edward's thoughts, and before he could reconsider he called after her.

"You know you're not alone, right?"

Winry stood pondering the phrase, which he delivered as more of a statement than a question. He filled the silence again.

"You're not in this alone. Everything's gonna be okay." He said. Winry found it hard to believe him, and breathed deep to try and quell her building anxiety.

"I hope you're right."

Winry resumed her walk towards the subway with dread in her stomach as she mentally lashed herself for being so weak and getting Edward involved. No one was supposed to know the truth about her, and if Archer was still as well-connected as he'd always been, he would likely know exactly where Winry spent much of her free time. Tears sprang to her eyes; if Edward wound up dead, she would have no one to blame but herself.

* * *

A/N: I am an extra large piece of shit for being away so long and not updating as frequently as I have for past stories. I hope you guys can forgive me. Thanks to all for the reads and reviews, you guys are the best. Next chap is a doozie, see you soon.


	12. Chapter 12

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep.

Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memory.

Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece.

Little do you know I need a little more time.

I'll wait.

-A&S

* * *

"You didn't eat after midnight, correct?"

"Yea."

"And you used the bathroom right? You're good to go?"

"Right."

Edward sat on the edge of the steel operating table with a furrowed brow and a heavy heart. He was finally having his arm repaired, but he knew the worst of the procedure would come at the very end, when it was time for re-attachment. Vulnerability was a concept not foreign to him, but one that he hated all the same. He was a leader, a soldier, and his art made him a healer. He thrived off of being strong for others and strong for himself. Strength was all he had to get him through his difficult life. The knowledge that he would be robbed of that, to be forced to rely on someone else during the pain of reattachment, did not sit well with him. He breathed out heavily and pulled his hair loose from its restraint.

Winry watched his actions from across the room as she gathered what she'd need before walking over to finish setting up her station beside the operating table. He was not himself that day, not by a long shot. She watched his shoulders slump and his head hand dejectedly, a golden curtain of long hair disguising his handsome face. Setting down the rest of her tools, she rolled her jumpsuit sleeves to her elbows and eyed her morose customer keenly, before stepping to him to try and lighten the mood when she gave a tiny tug on the black hair elastic entangled in his flesh fingers.

"Mind if I borrow this?" She asked, offering a smart smirk and a wink when his head turned up to meet her gaze. Edward sat blinking for only a moment, having been rooted in place by her beauty before snapping to and acquiescing with a nod. She pulled her long buttery hair into a high pony.

"Okay, shirt and pants." Winry stated, letting Edward know that she was ready and it was time. He grimaced and slid off the table before removing his shirt and sliding out of his pants, which the all-too-casual mechanic took from him and folded before setting them on a nearby chair. She'd informed Ed earlier that judging from the state of his shoulder she wouldn't be surprised if his leg needed some love too, but it remained to be seen if the leg would need to be removed. As Winry turned around to face him again she reminded herself to not be distracted by his looks. She was a true professional and would always remain so, even if she wanted to run her fingers over the ripples of her client's washboard abs. She again noted his melancholy state.

"Hey, everything's gonna be fine. I know its painful—"

"—You don't know this pain." He shot back a little harder than he meant. Edward's eyes cast away from hers again.

"…You're right," She responded softly after a beat. "I don't know what you're going through. I haven't lost a limb, so I don't know what you're going through. All I can offer is that I'll be here, you won't be alone."

Ed's gaze found the side table where her tools were set, and found his mind wandering as he noticed each instrument. What it was for, where it might be used, how it would feel, …and what memories it would conjure. A hand on his arm brought him back and he looked down at her earnest face.

"I'll take care of you. I have morphine for the pain once we're finished." She said as he lied down on his back on the table and she draped a white sheet over his boxer-brief clad mid-section. He swallowed, knowing that the pain wasn't what he was most worried about.

* * *

Two hours later Winry had worked her way into every joint of Edward's leg checking for signs of damage similar to his arm. What she found was minimal and resolved fairly quickly without needing to remove the limb. He'd fallen asleep not long after she'd placed an oxygen mask over his nose after to starting the procedure, she wanted him to remain calm. Once finished with his leg Winry took Edward off the oxygen but he remained asleep as she set to work detaching his arm from the moulded port in his shoulder. The rusty build-up in his arm would be a bitch to clean out, but now that his port was exposed she had full view of even bigger problems, and her heart sank. The rust forming in the joints of his arm and leg were likely due to poor ventilation, and it made sense knowing where he lived. The attic space he called home wasn't exactly open and airy, and the studio had only the large front window, but it didn't open. The studio rest room was a decent size, and she'd seen the shower stall in it, but it too had no open windows. Ed would need to do a better job of drying out his limbs with a towel if he didn't want to deal with this problem again. She pulled her black gloves a bit tighter on her hands and reached for a metal pick to gently scrape out the rust and other blackish wet splotches from the lining of his port socket.

It took another hour for her to effectively clean everything, and asked Paninya to clean his detached arm for her in the meantime. Winry had run into a problem she prayed she wouldn't face for his sake, but once she noticed the mold running deeper into his shoulder socket, her fears became reality and she knew she would need to devote all her attention to this much bigger issue. There was a soft, pinkish red hue to the skin on his chest between tattooed flesh, near his clavicle where flesh met the edge of the steel plates making up the base of the port. Removing the plate revealed the growing infection from the bacteria that came with the mold, and suddenly Winry was furious. How could anyone be so irresponsible? All he had to do was get in the nooks and crannies with a towel every time his limbs got wet. He didn't have the luxury of letting himself air dry, and now because of his laziness, the small infection had caused a tiny bundle of nerves to detach from the port. Winry sighed audibly and sat back in her chair, blown away at what she'd uncovered during what should've been and simple and quick procedure. Paninya noticed her friend's distraught face from her station nearby.

"How bad is it?" She called to the blonde.

"Bad." She said gravely. "If I'd known this could happen I would've asked Garfiel to assist me. I have to do a nerve reattachment."

When infections spread from automail due to bacteria, the nerves attached from the subject to the port would reject the automail and pull away in efforts to stop the infection from spreading to the rest of the body. It was obvious to Winry that while Ed's infection was still mild, his body wasted no time trying to protect itself. She was in for a long night, and he was in for a world of hurt.

"I have to leave soon, my flight is the last one out until tomorrow. I can't afford to miss it." Paninya said sadly, wishing she could stay to help her friend.

"No don't postpone your vacation, I'll be fine. I'll just need a lot of coffee." Winry smiled, trying not to think about the night ahead as she and Paninya locked eyes, and then both looked back at the sleeping Edward who had no idea what he was in for.

* * *

The flames of hell licked at his skin, searing him with each touch and engulfing him in agony. Then they were gone. A deafening blast shattered the world around him, and his knees met the floor as he heard the screaming. Where was she? Why was she there? Where was he? …What had he been DOING? She was alone. She was waiting for him and he wasn't there, she was counting on him. She was…

' _Edward it's time…'_

He shook his head furiously. Not that voice again.

' _Everything will be okay, but you have to be strong. Be strong for each other. I will never leave you.'_

But she did leave. She left him and his brother alone, and then he came, but he was never really there…

' _DON'T BOTHER ME'_

Edward raked hands into his hair and shook his head again, trying to block out the loud blasts, the never-ending blackness around him. Pushing away the faces, when a message once again beckoned, but from a new voice.

' _Edward, it's time… You have to wake up…'_

The soothing softness stopped the blasts, and stopped the world from shaking around him.

"Tell me more." He said to the black abyss. The voice complied.

' _Breathe Edward, I need you to wake up now… I'm so sorry but… I need a cognizant reaction…'_

Ed stopped breathing only for a second as his mind sped to catch up.

"…A cognizant reac—"

And he screamed in agony.

* * *

The heart monitor sirened loud and frantic as Edward screamed, only to drag in air as his eyes snapped open and he let out another ear-shattering scream. Winry knew she had very little time. She needed to bring his heart rate down, but doing that required the pain to stop, and the pain wouldn't stop until every nerve was reconnected. She'd already attached one, but the remaining three would feel like an eternity to him. She couldn't afford to stop for more than just a moment for him to catch his breath. Before seizing the second loose nerve she stood from her stool to stand over Ed for a moment as he gasped and heaved, sweat pouring from his furrowed brow. Winry was no stranger to this procedure and the infantesimal scale it reduced a person to; she'd seen hardened criminals and survivors of war cry out for their mothers and even wet themselves. Nerve attachment relied on reaction from the body as the telltale sign of success, and therefore offered no room for the comforts of anesthetic of any kind, not even a shot of whiskey. An engineer's only sign that the procedure was going well was the screaming of the patient.

Edward feared his heart may burst from his body from sheer force, and he could swear he was able to see the blood surging fast and red behind his eyelids. Heart thundering in his ears, lungs dragging in air, the room was a thousand degrees when a cold wet cloth brushed over his face and neck. His arm… it was like it had been blasted from his body all over again. He attempted speech but failed only to gasp for more air over a lingering wave of pain.

"You're doing fine. Everything will be alright, I promise."

There it was again. That voice. He attempted speech again, pushing out his exhausted words in a rush, carried from a dry and grated throat.

"How many?" He couldn't open his eyes again. Winry passed the wet cloth over his face again carefully.

"Three more."

Ed wanted to cry.

"No—" He choked. His head shook miserably, and Winry pulled the microscopic surgery goggles over her eyes again as she picked up her tools to resume.

"You can do this. I'm with you. Now exhale in three… two… one."

Ed breathed out, Winry's tweezer grabbed a nerve, and Edward sucked in air sharply. Winry pressed the nerve ending into place, and the screaming continued.

* * *

Warm peppermint tea soothed her unsettled stomach as Winry watched over Edward. She usually remained calm and focused on her task during procedure, but hearing him scream like that drove a knife into her gut and the knife turned each time he begged her to stop. While the worst was over for him, her night would press on. She had already washed and cleaned up and put her tools in the autoclave, so by his side she remained -perched on her high barstool with her teacup on the work table next to her, as she jotted notes in his chart to reference for his future appointments. Edward was fast asleep having passed out from the pain of the final nerve attachment. Attaching the final nerve had sent fear spiking through her when the heart monitor skyrocketed and the second she was finished she'd grabbed the nearby oxygen mask and pressed it to his face again, telling him to breathe deep. It only took a few seconds, but Edward's heart finally slowed and he looked at Winry; one pair of exhausted eyes to another before he slipped into subconciousness.

She had taken him off oxygen after cleaning up and settling in with her tea to allow him to wake naturally instead of forcing him; his body needed time to readjust and calm down from all the pain. Docking would be no picnic either, the one silver lining being that after enduring an unexpected nerve reattachment, the pain of docking should feel like a mere stubbed toe by comparison. Winry would need him awake for that too, but it would have to wait till morning to be sure his nerves fully adhered and wouldn't attempt to reject again. As she finished her notes she set down his chart next to her teacup and stood to examine him. The bleeding around the edge of the plate she'd removed and rebolted had ceased quickly, a good sign. Winry looked around the dark garage, she normally hated being there alone at night, but somehow having Ed there gave her comfort even though he was completely incapacitated. She looked down at his sleeping form again, and found herself unable to resist the urge to lightly run her fingers over his smooth, decorated flesh. Only then did it dawn on her that while she'd seen his tattoos before, she'd never truly taken notice of them. They were beautiful.

His strong chest was adorned in black and grey ink, an anatomical human heart in the center of his chest with panels of steel and bolted-over seams replacing what would've normally been winding patterns of muscle cells twisting around atria and ventricles. The large plates of his automail arm disfigured and obscured the right side of his chest, hiding the right side of the tattoo which disappeared under the steel edge. But the left side curled and twisted like black smoke, reaching out to his shoulder as it vaporized gradually to flesh, as an evanescence. His organic arm held a symbol she recognized as an ancient alchemical cross flanked with large feathered wings and a viscous, winding snake curled around it. The detail was intricate, the shading provided depth and realism, she could stare at his tattoos all day. The most intriguing was the piece adorning his ribcage. It was simple, and not much larger than a fist, but it was significant. Another ancient symbol used by alchemists, with a name derived from Greek words meaning "tail eater". The ink was a deep vermillion, the lines were crisp. A circular serpent, swallowing its own end, representing the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. It was a symbol of transformation; of starting anew. The center of the ouroboros was missing its traditional star, and was replaced with cursive writing. A name.

A woman's name.

Winry stood straight again, a sudden grip around her heart sending her brows to fuse together in suspicion. There was a woman in his life, someone important enough to symbolize a cycle of life with. Someone he loved enough to etch into his body forever.

 _'I should've known better.'_ She mentally chastised herself. That was what she got for letting herself fall prey to a pretty face such as his. She paved the length of the garage angrily, falling in and out of the shadows as she walked. She felt like a class fool for succumbing to his seemingly sweet nature, for daring to believe even for a second that he might not hurt her. Moisture welled in Winrys eyes as she thought of all the times she wanted to kiss him, of the times he made her feel so cared for, and of the comments Sheska whispered to her about not burning him. How dare he play the victim.

She grabbed a nearby wrench and flung it hard across the room, sending it sailing into a pile of steel scraps with a loud and oppressive crash. Edward's head only moved slightly on the table, and he remained sleeping. The icy glare Winry sent his sleeping face wasn't enough to inspire fear in his slumbering state, and she decided that since he had his life together enough to be playing women for fools, then he could certainly take care of himself for the night. She pulled her hair loose from her ponytail and stormed out of the garage, leaving Ed alone in the dark so she could make herself a bed in one of the private exam rooms. It took every once of her to push out the thoughts of Edward and his secret life, the thoughts of which punished her over and over for allowing herself to feel what she felt for him. She feared him even more now. For everything he'd done to her, and for everything he hadn't.

Edward groaned and his eyes blinked openly slowly, squinting against the bright lamp shining over him. The garage was silent and dark, save for the table he lied on. He blinked awake after a few moments and looked around only to be met with dark silence. His throat cried from dryness, and his arm radiated pain. Looking down he found himself still unattached to automail; the phantom limb syndrome radiated throughout his shoulder and chest. His attempts to sit up failed due to his exhaustion and he couldn't speak, his only constant thoughts being of water and to go home, and he realized he wasn't even sure what time it was. One last attempt to right himself on the table had gotten Edward rolled onto his left side and he considered it a small victory as he mentally coached himself through the process of swinging his legs down to plant his feet on the floor. His task accomplished, he was feeling pretty proud of himself until he pushed off of the table and his legs instantly buckled beneath him. The floor met him hard but not before he reached out in attempt to catch himself, taking an entire try of nearby tools crashing loudly to the cement with him. Edward groaned miserably at the new pain throbbing throughout his body and was about to give up and lie there when he heard a door open and footsteps shuffling down the hall towards the garage.

"Ed? …Ed?!" The crash had roused Winry from her sleep, and blue eyes fell to the long strands of golden hair splayed out on the cold cement floor behind the operating table. She cursed herself. In a moment of anger and jealousy she'd foregone professionalism and left an ICU patient by himself. A gasp seared into her as Winry rounded the table. Her eyes found his but they weren't the lovely happy gold she'd become accustomed to -they were piercing and and angry, glaring daggers at her for not being there like she promised she would.

"Morphine." He growled at her. "Now."

Winry dropped to her knees to help him sit up, and Ed groaned loudly from the extreme soreness of his muscles. Nerve reattachment made every muscle in the body seize up near the point of strain, not unlike the moment of impact during a car crash. He was furious at her, enraged that she wasn't there when he woke up. Now he sat in his black boxer briefs on the frigid cement floor pathetically, and would've given anything for the strength to stand on his own so he could storm out. He hated being like this, he hated for anyone to see him this way, especially her. She said she'd understand -she was an engineer after all- so she should've been there. Edward cursed his stupidity for thinking he could trust her —for thinking she'd be different. How could he think she might be someone he could count on, when he couldn't even rely on her to be sitting on a stool waiting for him to regain consciousness? He breathed hard once sitting up with Winry's help, and she looked at him somewhat fearfully.

"…I can't give you morphine yet." She whispered.

"WHY NOT?!"

She shrank back from him, having never seen him angry before, let alone being screamed at. She swallowed hard, knowing this was her fault.

"We need to …dock your arm first." She said. The glare he was giving her made her think of her old life, the man who used to scream at her for working late and for working with male patients who would have to disrobe in front of her. He would scream at her for not giving him morphine when he asked for it. He would threaten her.

"I…I…can't…" She said. Edward saw red, the pain nearly crippling him and reducing him to a state he hated, and so unexpectedly. What had happened? What had she done during the procedure that made him need a nerve reattachment? And now she would deny him the only thing that could ease his suffering?! His mind rocketed back to the war, to the blast from the IED that robbed him of his leg and arm, and killed one of his best friends. Suddenly he was no longer in control of himself, and his flesh hand lashed out, seizing Winry by the arm and yanking her close.

"I need you to give me drugs right now. Morphine, Vicodin, I don't give a fuck, just give me something NOW GODDAMMIT!"

His hand vice-gripped on her arm sending tears springing to her eyes. "Ed stop, you're hurting me."

" _Would you like to know how much I'M hurting?!_ "

Winry took advantage of his compromised state and swung her free fist around to land a hard blow on his chest, enough to hurt him but not enough to cause damage to the nerves she'd repaired. The sensitive muscles gave way easily and he hollered, releasing her to clutch his chest as Winry seized the opportunity to scramble to her feet and grab a syringe from a nearby drawer. Pain and anger fueled the adrenaline that surged Edward to his unstable feet, and as he staggered forward Winry gripped the syringe and lunged at him, plunging the needle into the side of his neck before scrambling away from him. He yelped and then stopped, swaying on the spot where he stood.

"…Winry… I…" Golden eyes rolled upward and he collapsed to the ground, leaving Winry standing over him with the empty syringe.

* * *

A/N: IMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY I SUCK I KNOW I'VE BEEN GONE FOREVER. In my defense, I moved! Everything I own was boxed up and I couldn't find my macbook, but we were reunited (and it feels so good) last night sO I'VE COME TO RESCUE YOU ALL FROM THE HELL I'VE PUT YOU THROUGH. I treasured every single review and kind word I received while away, and my heart basically shredded towards the last few days when I started getting messages from people asking if I'd abandoned this fic.

NO! NEVER! I WILL **NEVER** willingly abandon a fic! The high I get from writing them and hearing reviews is just too good to pass up.

Anyways I'm here now, I'm settled (mostly) in my new apartment and I'm brainstorming plot lines. The next fic I write will most likely be the next companion in the Perfect Blood universe, so theres something to be excited about :)

I love you guys, I missed you guys, I can't wait to hear from you guys. The next chap will be up in a couple weeks.


	13. Chapter 13

Every man has his secret sorrows

which the world knows not;

and often times

we call a man cold

when he is only sad.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

* * *

The city was cast in the soft early glow of sunrise when Edward awoke for the second time. He was in a hospital bed in a small, dark room when the door opened and an exhausted Winry shuffled in. The events of the evening surged back to him and he moved to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by Winry, who was oddly quiet and not quite looking at him.

"You need to stay down a little longer. If you try to get up now you'll just get dizzy and fall again, plus we still have to attach your arm. I can give you morphine after that."

She didn't make eye contact with him as she fed him a large ice chip to melt in his parched mouth, and quickly turned away to update his chart again. She was angry, mostly at herself. She shouldn't have left him alone, the whole incident could've been avoided if she'd only done her job properly and stayed at his bedside. Winry wasn't unfamiliar with how to handle disgruntled patients; automail surgery was agonizing and would bring out the worst in people. Normally it didn't get to her much, even if the patient got physical like Edward had, but the way he shouted at her. The menacing glare. She had only seen sweet and caring sides of him before then, and hadn't stopped to consider what the nerve reattachment could do to his personality. Not that it would've changed anything; the surgery was unavoidable considering the condition he was in. But being screamed at for drugs was something she knew well, and having it come from someone she had complicated feelings for only reminded her of her life 3 years prior.

She had been such a fool for so long, she wouldn't allow herself to fall victim to anyone ever again. That promise she'd made to herself kept the fiery anger burning in her chest when she thought of the woman's name tattooed on his body.

Edward wasn't sure if her sour expression came from sheer exhaustion or from him lashing out, but his curiosity peaked all the same in spite of the waves of pain that rolled through his body. Her body language had changed since the night before. She wasn't chipper and casual, she wasn't winking at him playfully to try and lift his mood. She was treating him like he was a stranger, someone who made her nervous for the wrong reasons. He could see it in her knit brow, her sad eyes, the way she bit her bottom lip in frustration as she scribbled notes on his chart. He wanted to know that she was okay, that THEY were okay. He wanted to look at her.

"Winry…"

She didn't look up from his chart. Ed shifted his body to carefully push himself up to a sitting position, and Winry didn't stop him that time because she was so focused on everything but him.

"Winry, look at me."

She still refused to look at him and instead gripped to the professionalism she'd cast away the night before.

"Ed, why didn't you say anything about the nerves in your shoulder?" Winry asked as she set down the chart and retrieved his arm from a nearby table. He watched her knowing it was time for reattachment, feeling the irritation radiate from her and in turn becoming irritated himself when the previous evening's events flooded back to him. Suddenly he couldn't wait for reattachment. As soon as his arm was on his body he would be out the door, but he would answer her questions first if it sped the process along.

"It wasn't super obvious at first. It felt almost like a phantom pain, so I chocked it up to that and let it be." Edward shot.

"How long ago? What did it feel like?"

Ed eased himself to lay down again when she approached with his arm and the tool he recognized as the driving force behind automail connection. She set the arm into the socket and prepared as he answered.

"Occasionally a deep, dull ache. Or a throbbing sensation. About two months ago it felt like..." His eyes wandered as he searched for proper descriptives. "It felt like... light brush strokes. Almost like a single, errant strand of hair feels when it skims across your skin, except the sensation was inside my shoulder."

Winry had to suppress the urge to grab her favorite wrench and clock him with it.

"That's nerve damage, Ed. You can't just ignore those kind of symptoms the way you can ignore a sneezing fit or dry skin. Any pain or tingling you feel on an automailed limb definitely means trouble, and ignoring it is like ignoring a flat tire. It only gets worse the more you drive on it."

She punctuated her statement with an angry yank on her tool, wrenching his arm back into the socket forcefully and causing Ed to holler and curse before snapping back at her.

"Fucking **WARN ME!** What kind of sadist are you?!"

Winry stopped before turning away from him and bit back,

"Oh you think _I'm_ the sadist? I think we both know you've enjoyed playing with my emotions long enough."

Edward fought the urge to scream at her again. Sure, the last 24 hours had been shitty for both of them, but she'd started it by leaving him alone when she'd promised to be there. He had every right to his anger, what he didn't understand was why she was so pissed at him.

"Are you pissed off because of last night? Look, I'm sorry I freaked out but you have no idea what this shit feels like! You started this by not being there when you said you would!"

Winry grabbed his clothes and chucked them at him before stomping over.

"You wanna talk about not being there for someone?! Exactly how many women are waiting for you to be there for them?! I'm not gonna add my name to that list, Edward."

Ed's building anger surged his body to stand and he pulled his pants on as he geared up to yell back, but was rendered speechless when she pointed at the name on his ribcage.

"Instead of giving me excuses, why don't you explain to HER where you've been all this time?!"

Time slowed for a moment as Edward's wide-eyed gaze locked onto where Winry pointed, and his feelings for her washed away along with his manners as he looked back at her.

"…You bitch…"

Winry's jaw hit the floor as she watched a completely different person yank his shirt and boots on and literally throw a wad of cash at her before glaring at her with a fury she'd never witnessed in her life. She felt swallowed as he loomed over her, and fear squeezed her heart as Edward spoke quietly,

"Be at the studio tomorrow at 10 am. I don't give a fuck if you have plans, cancel them. I'm finishing your back tomorrow and then you get the hell out of my life."

Winry watched him storm out of the room and down the hall, but screeched to a halt when his eye caught the title of a book on a nearby shelf. Winry stood silently watching him as he approached the shelf behind the front counter and quietly whispered to himself something akin to "…it can't be" as he pulled the book from the shelf and opened to the inside back cover.

The blood drained from Ed's face and he snapped the book shut before raking a hand through his loose hair. He laughed, but not joyously. He laughed out of disbelief that his life could be that fucked up. That his luck could be just what it was. His laughter was distraught hysteria, and without so much as a backward glance toward Winry he tucked the book under his flesh arm and walked out leaving tears pouring down her face, as well as his.

* * *

Each pass of the needle over her skin was a fiery razor tearing at flesh, but Winry welcomed it because she knew each swipe brought her tattoo closer to completion and closer to the moment when she could tell Edward to go fuck himself and she'd never have to see him again. The thought of it made her want to cry. His anger for what happened during his procedure was justified, —she should've been there when he woke up. But it didn't excuse him lying to her about having a woman in his life. It didn't excuse him calling her a bitch and stealing from her. She'd strongly considered not returning to his studio, but her idiotic pride helped her find her way there with the hopes he'd at least apologize for the way things ended. She deserved an apology after he'd completely lost it over her comment about his tattoo, but Winry figured if he couldn't handle someone pointing out his faults then she didn't want him in her life anyway. She'd spent enough years being abused by her ex who believed himself to be perfect, she would NOT go down that path again.

Edward had made sure he was set up with gloves on and ready for her when a timid Sheska brought her to his station. His anger pulsated in waves that his employees hadn't seen before and they all did their best to stay out of his way. He didn't say so much as 'hello' to Winry when she entered his booth and removed her shirt; her fury completely bulldozing any self-consciousness she'd previously had for her scars. She didn't even care if Ed saw her naked chest at that point. She was so fed up with everything they'd been through trying to complete her stupid tattoo, and she was more than ready to move on with her life. The only thing that saddened her was while the tattoo would hide the evidence of what Frank Archer had done to her, the finished piece would be the reminder of what Edward Elric had done. Hours later when Edward finished, he peeled off his gloves to chuck them in the trash before calling to Envy to clear his station. His office door bore the weight of his rage as Edward stormed in and slammed it behind him, leaving a speechless Winry sitting with her bare chest still pressed to the chair back as she rolled her eyes, not terribly surprised by his actions. A large and tattooed visiting artist with white hair and dark glasses skidded to a stop when he'd witnessed Edward's behavior.

"What the hell is his problem?" Scar asked as he turned to Winry and handed her a towel to cover her front so she could stand. "He's never unprofessional like that, I'm very sorry."

"Don't worry about it," She said as she recalled her own lack of propriety back at the automail garage. "it's an eye for an eye I suppose."

Scar handed her a mirror and escorted her to the large framed mirror that leaned against the wall outside Edward's office, and as Winry turned to examine her back she gasped.

The scars were gone. She could hardly tell where they'd been to begin with. Replacing them were the massive blooms of cabbage roses and peonies -her late mother's favorite flower- and the beautiful shading that created the stunning depth and emphasized the detail of texture in every petal, on every bud, on every bloom, even the few that cascaded down the small of her back. Slowly the other artists began to notice from across the studio and whisper amongst each other, and Scar stood by Winry gazing at her back in the large, antique mirror.

"I don't know who you are, but you must be special if Edward put this much time and effort into flowers for you. He never does flowers for anyone, especially not in hyper-realism."

Winry fought back tears at the beauty of his work, but her euphoric moment of freedom was suddenly forgotten by a pressing question she'd been meaning to ask.

"What's the deal with Ed and flowers? How would this make me important to him? I'm honestly no one special."

Edward's office door yanked open at that moment and he appeared with an accusatory glare at his visiting artist.

"Don't you dare say a thing." Sharp golden eyes wandered the studio to briefly land on Sheska, Havoc, Envy, and Greed who was also visiting for the week as they watched him nervously. "If any of you say anything I'll fire you."

"That feels illegal, Ed." Havoc dead-panned from across the room. Edward glared at his friend before turning to Winry, who was too exhausted to even be embarrassed at that point. Ed had heard the exchange between her and Scar when he leaned against the wall of his office trying to calm himself.

"Are you happy with your tattoo?" He asked Winry, finally connecting eyes with her after what felt like forever due to his personal shame at how he'd spoken to her the night before. He was pissed at her, and he was pissed to find a book he'd spent years searching for just sitting on her shelf, but when he'd gotten home that night and stood under the hot shower he couldn't distinguish between water and furious tears as he thought of what he'd said to her. He wasn't raised to speak to women that way, and his beloved mother whom he'd lost at 9 years old would've been ashamed. The blue of her eyes was deep and clear like an evening sky and he saw the immediate change in how she carried herself; timidness gone, shoulders squared, looking back at him like she knew him better than he knew himself —as though she could predict his every move. Completely unafraid, Winry locked onto Ed's piercing eyes and stated very simply.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

Standing there with a white towel clutched to her front and his artwork adorning her back, she was a new person in his eyes. She was the person he'd suspected had been hiding beneath her fear all along, and the completion of her tattoo had set her free. Edward knew he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do for her. The little voice rang clear like a bell in his mind and he had to fight tears —he'd healed her, and was stunned to find that in spite of how beautiful he'd always found her to be, she had never been more breathtaking than in that moment as the strong creature that stood before him, stubborn eyes locked on his increasing the pace of his pounding heart. It was no longer him making her nervous, she held all the power and she knew it.

If his staff weren't watching them, he would've ripped that towel away and kissed her hard, and let her shout every curse she knew at him while he lay on the shop floor and let her ride him like the horrible animal he was.

The air in the studio grew stagnant despite the bluesy rock music playing throughout, and the ringing phone on the front desk was a welcome distraction that pushed the staff back into normal activity. Edward turned to Scar.

"I'm okay now, thanks." Scar clapped his old apprentice on the shoulder and moved on toward the front of the studio leaving Edward and Winry alone. A sigh escaped the disgruntled artist and Winry breezed past him to straddle the chair in his booth again so he could bandage her, which he did carefully and silently before helping her up and watching her dress herself. Gathering the appropriate bills, Winry attempted to hand them to Edward but found him gently push it away with a shake of his head.

"No, just… don't worry about it." He said, still reeling from the actions of the night before and how easily she'd made him want to cower in shame without even trying. "Consider it payment for the book."

"Why did you take it?" Winry asked, pocketing her money gratefully with the knowledge she could use it to relocate. "I mean, I would've given it to you anyway if you'd just asked."

Edward shook his head angrily and breathed out. "I…I just can't tell you why. It's just so… …it's just too fucking hard to talk about."

"I wish you would tell me SOMETHING." Winry pressed. "I mean…. I told you EVERYTHING—"

"—It was wrong of me to force that from you. I'm sorry." Ed interjected, hoping it would drop the subject. It didn't.

"I'm fine now, really I am." She insisted with an earnest look, but it wouldn't sway his scowl and he stood with arms folded -the perfect picture of stress and frustration.

"Winry… yesterday was…" As he locked eyes with her again he found himself unable to find appropriate descriptives for what they'd done to one another at the automail garage, and he didn't bother to finish the sentence before saying that it would perhaps be better if they ended their association. Winry couldn't agree more, wanting to scold him for being a player but choosing not too; she'd gotten what she'd needed from him and was now being offered the chance to walk away without further issue. She would simply have to push aside the way her heart fluttered frantically at the thought of him, the way his smile made her smile in return, the way his smell sent waves of want through her for the first time in years. She would push out of her memory forever all the times he'd made her feel safe, all the times he'd shown up to protect her without even being asked. If he couldn't trust her enough to open up about who he really was and what was hurting him so much, then she couldn't give herself to him.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye then." Winry said softly, just above a whisper that sent Edwards eyes back to hers, not liking what he heard as it came from her lips. But he knew it was necessary. The weight of the moment's finality pressed heavy on them as they looked at each other, and again found themselves unsure of how to part. A handshake was too cold, a hug was too hard, a kiss would kill them both, and so he took her hand in his and raised it to his mouth, barely feathering his lips across her knuckles. Winry's heart squeezed horribly as she turned to go, unable to look back at him as she strode out the front door and down the stairs, only briefly noticing the distraught looks on the faces of Edward's fellow artists as Sheska hung up the phone with her hand to her heart. Edward dissapeared into the darkness of his office, closing the door behind him yet again to slide down the wall and sit in despair when the softest knocking sounded along with Sheska's shaky voice.

"Edward?"

"I need a minute please." He muttered, but she persisted.

"…Edward its an emergency…" Sheska said quietly. Ed noted the sadness and the nervousness, but not the urgency that would normally accompany a dire situation. The doorknob turned and he didn't try to stop his receptionist as she slowly opened the door ajar to look at him on the floor.

"What's wrong?" He asked, taking in her pale and fragile state.

"…That was Commissioner Mustang… Noah had an overdose. She passed away early this morning."

* * *

A/N: thank you all so much for sticking with me and for reading and reviewing. More soon, I promise.


	14. Chapter 14

Its an awful truth

that suffering can deepen us,

give a greater lustre to

our colours, a richer

resonance to

our words.

-Anne Rice

* * *

Edward stood at the large window of his hotel room looking out over the bright lights of Center City Philadelphia. His black suit jacket lay over a nearby club chair, his white dress shirt was untucked and pushed to his elbows, his black tie discarded on the floor. He was two scotches in and miserable. It was a cruel irony to turn to alcohol for comfort while grieving the loss of his first love due to her own battles with the bottle —he found out it was the handful of pills she'd washed down with a fifth of vodka that finally did her in. He'd fled to Pennsylvania immediately on the next available train only to spend 3 days in a hotel wrestling with wether or not to attend the funeral. Their relationship had started young when they met in high school, they married at 18 and Edward filed for divorce 4 years later, not seeing it finalized until 2 years after due to the incredible messiness of it. But he'd always gotten along fine with Noah's family. They had taken his side during the divorce, knowing that it was their daughter with the alcohol problems and seeing how Ed was at war, he couldn't be blamed for their failed marriage. Especially after Noah cheated on Edward while he lay in a german hospital bed, waiting for automail limbs to replace the ones he lost in his attempt to save Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes.

Noah's father always respected Edward for his selflessness and willingness to work hard. He was a famous psychiatrist specializing in relationships and her mother was a human rights lawyer, so if the media had caught wind that their daughter had betrayed a Medal of Honor and Purple Heart recipient, it could've shattered their credibility and ruined their careers. They secretly gave Edward the money to divorce their daughter in exchange for his vow of silence -not that he would've called the press anyway, he was too busy being heartbroken and recovering from automail surgery. They'd given him enough money to leave Noah, move away and start the small business he'd always wanted.

Edward's reminiscing was interrupted by a knock at his hotel room door, and he answered it with a scowl knowing exactly who would be standing there.

"Brother, have you eaten today?" Alphonse Elric said as he entered the room and shut the door. Edward gave an indifferent shrug as he sipped his scotch again and moved to sit on the bed. His younger brother graduated from Drexel with honors and was now a top surgeon at the Children's Hospital Of Philadelphia. He was smart, well-liked, polite to a fault, and worried constantly about his older brother who seemed to find misery at every turn despite being hard-working, talented, and a good person. At 6'3 Alphonse stood a few inches taller than his older brother with shorter, darker hair and eyes that gave more burnished bronze than Edward's gold, but when standing next to one another the relation was undeniable.

"How many have you had today, Ed?"

"Calm down Al, this only my second. I'm not gonna do anything crazy. I'm gonna order room service and sit here and be miserable, okay?"

Alphonse pulled a bottled water from the mini fridge and handed it his brother, taking the scotch to finish himself. Edward glared at him, but didn't protest.

"You'll thank me in the morning." Al said. He'd attended the wake and the funeral, and Edward opted to stay in the car until the end when most of the guests had left before getting out to see Noah's parents and pay his respects. It was immensely helpful to Edward having his younger brother there, but now that the dust of the day had settled and they were sitting in his hotel room with jackets off and collars unbuttoned, Edward knew what was coming next.

"Have you spoken to Winry since you got here?"

Ed loved his brother, but in that moment he also wanted to punch his lights out.

"Al this is REALLY not the time to be hassling me about Winry." Edward groaned. His brother had been Winry's biggest cheerleader ever since Ed had called him two months back to catch up and wound up spilling the beans that he was drawing flowers for a special client. Ever since then it was texts, emails, and phone calls from Alphonse about Winry this and Winry that. Al made no attempts to hide the fact that he wanted to see his big brother find someone and finally be happy. He fully understood what was standing in the way, but Alphonse was a romantic and an endless optimist, always seeing the glass half full. To hear that his brother was drawing flowers again was the greatest excitement he'd ever felt, and he was determined to see his brother end up with Winry.

"I'm not hassling, I'm just curious if she knows."

"Well she doesn't. I finished her tattoo days ago and we no longer have any reason to speak to each other. She's not a part of my life anymore." Edward bit angrily. Alphonse felt something bubble in his chest, an unfamiliar emotion that hardly ever plagued him: irritation, frustration, anger. He stood from the bed and turned to Edward.

"Brother don't be an idiot!" He hollered, effectively getting Edward's surprised attention. "You're so busy being the brooding, miserable artist that you can't see happiness when it's standing in your damn shop!"

Edward swallowed hard, knowing that seeing his younger brother yell was a rare sight that demanded full attention.

"You're acting like yourself again for the first time in years and its because of this Winry person! Why would you push that away?"

It was Edward's turn to shout.

"Al you know why I can't trust anyone! You know exactly why I can't be with anyone ever again!"

"This isn't about betrayal Ed, it's about HER. I can't believe I'm saying this out loud but we're both thinking it: Noah is GONE. She's not standing in your way anymore! You can actually move on so do it!"

"WHAT IF SHE WANTS KIDS ALPHONSE?!" Edward roared at his brother. "What if Winry wants kids! You know I can't do that! You know I can't—"

His voice broke and his head fell in his hands, the events of the day and the memories of a tortured life finally catching up with Edward. He sat on the bed again tried to stop the tears to no avail, as Alphonse looked on equally glassy-eyed and placed a supportive hand on Edward's shoulder.

"Brother, you can't continue like this. When you tell me about Winry and how you feel when you're around her, you sound more optimistic than I've heard in years. You're different. You need to accept the fact that you're in love with Winry."

"—NO. I'm not. Al, I'm not -I can't." He stammered through the tears.

"You are Edward. I can't make you act on it, but a life without love is no life at all, and from what you told me it sounds like Winry needs you just as much as you need her."

Alphonse placed the empty scotch glass on a nearby table and turned to leave, but stopped at the door.

"What about the little voice?" He asked. Edward looked up at him.

"What?"

"The little voice you get. The one that told you not to pass Winry to another artist, the one that told you Winry needed your help. The one that told you to draw flowers."

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head as his brother continued to torture him with the truth.

"Ed, what's the little voice telling you now?"

* * *

Winry sat in the living room of her new sublet with her boxes, tool kits, and trash bags of clothes around her. The money that Edward let her keep was a blessing, and she used it to pay for a 2 month sublet on Varick st. The tiny studio was closer to work and a stepping stone to a fresh start where Archer wouldn't be able to find her, and it couldn't have come at a better time since she was no longer on speaking terms with Edward. She knew of course that if something happened and she needed help that Ed wouldn't feed her to the wolves, but she was serious when she made the decision to stand on her own again and Edward had already helped her with that immensely; Winry's tattoo was healing nicely and it had supercharged her confidence seemingly overnight.

The weather was turning cooler as September rolled in, so she wouldn't be breaking out the tube tops any time soon, but she beamed with happiness knowing that next spring she could comfortably wear them in the shop without feeling self-concious about her scars and she wouldn't have to sweat her ass of in a long sleep jumpsuit that zipped up to her neck anymore. She could go to the beach with friends and wear a bikini without the gasps or stares from strangers, because they wouldn't see scars, they would see Ed's beautiful artwork. For the first time in years, Winry was ecstatically happy.

Unfortunately the one person she wanted to share it with the most was the person she still couldn't convince to be honest with her. It soured her joy only a little, Winry wouldn't allow things not working out between her and Ed to ruin her new life, and since her sublet was an 8 minute walk from Alchemy, she knew the day would come that she would bump into him randomly on the street somewhere, and she would be ready with her painted smile.

Or at least, that's what she was telling herself would happen. As opposed to running in the other direction, or ducking behind a halal truck at the first sight of him to avoid having to pretend life was amazing and she wasn't missing him horribly.

Missing him every second, of every day.

Especially at night.

It had been just barely two weeks since her tattoo was finished and she bade Edward farewell, and she wasn't sure if her assumption that she'd be over him by now was hopeful optimism or a delusional fantasy. Winry tried to rationalize it out loud during the day, telling herself that it was just a gorgeous face and great body, but then at night should would think of that strong body and its ability to protect her from Archer who was still out there. She would tell herself that Edward had too much baggage and she didn't have time for that, but when she looked at her back in the mirror she would remember how unafraid he was of her issues and how devoted he was to bringing her piece. He was a torturous mystery, and it seemed to her he would forever stay that way until one night while she lay asleep, only to be woken by the soft buzzing of her phone on the floor. Eyes still hooded and bleary, she barely had the chance to fully wake before reading the screen and answering the call.

"Edward?"

She was met with only breathing for a moment, and then his voice was there. Soft and tired, but it was him.

*Noah died. The day I finished your back was the day she overdosed.*

Winry gasped, unable to find the right words, but Edward continued.

*She made life so… so hard. I loved her… We had a life together… I had plans for us… But she just couldn't wait for me.*

"Edward where are you?" Winry interjected, frightened by the fragile state of his voice and wondering if he needed help.

*I'm home, I'm at the studio. I know I said we shouldn't talk to each other anymore but….* He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

His hand raked through his dirty loose hair as bleary golden eyes fell to the half empty bottle that sat near him. Ed lay on the studio's old ornate rug on his back, letting the glow from the moonlight wash over him. He couldn't drink the way he did in his wild teenage years. These days only a few glasses of brandy would be enough to render him useless the following day. The military had given him the discipline he'd desperately needed as an adolescent. Those teenage years were his first tastes of freedom same as everyone else, but for him it was greater because he'd been an adult since he was a child. Losing your mother to illness before your tenth birthday was hard enough, but a negligent work-a-colic father who would pass out at his desk and forget to feed his children was what drove Edward to grow up too quickly. Clothes would be left soiled if Edward didn't clean them -little bellies empty if Edward didn't cook. He and Alphonse wouldn't even get to school if it weren't for Edward waking up to prepare his little brother and himself before getting on the school bus. He and his father would argue -when his father cared enough to even get angry, and Ed would find 10 dollars here, 20 dollars there, whatever he could sneak from his father without suspicion to buy food for himself and Alphonse.

After school programs provided the safe haven Alphonse needed where he could devote himself to learning, and Edward would stay with him simply so that neither of them would ever have to be alone with their father. But 13 and 14 proved to be wild and reckless for the elder brother who would spend his time smoking and drinking under the football field bleachers while he waited for his little brother. Meeting Scar and becoming his shop apprentice was the first time Edward had devoted himself to something that would better him, and the lessons he learned came in handy at 16 when he met Noah. She was vibrant and smart and desperate to see the world, but the drugs she experimented with in efforts to open her mind would eventually ruin her, robbing her of her scholarship to the School of Visual Arts in New York City. Edward's desire to help her the way Scar had helped him drove the growing passion he had for her, but continuing tension with his father drove Edward to reckless abandon out of spite. Class attendance was down, his grades plummeting, drugs became more and more enticing to him as a way to escape. It only worsened when Scar informed him that his shop was moving out of state leaving Edward with nothing productive to do apart from trying to keep from flunking and desperately holding his studious little brother's head above water. His highest high came at 17, when Alphonse was granted early admission to college. Sheer pride for Al surged Ed back into caring about his own grades. His joy would be short-lived however, for once Alphonse left for college, an 18 year-old Edward was met at home one night by his father informing him that he was no longer his problem and would be a granted a week to figure out where he was going. Edward spent 10 days on Noah's parent's couch before he'd enlisted in the Army and asked Noah to marry him.

Winry sat up on her mattress on the floor and curled her hair behind her ear with nervous excitement.

"I've thought about you too. I thought I might never see you again, but then I feared that I would and I'd have to pretend that I'm alright when I'm not."

*Are you in trouble?* He asked.

"No, I'm safe. I'm just sad. I miss you. I'm not supposed to miss you but I do. I'm not supposed to be telling you this."

Ed's weary heart squeezed in his chest. After everything, after the way they fought, after the terrible things he'd said, she still missed him.

*Tell me everything, please.* He implored.

"I've told you enough, it's you who needs to open up." Winry said with a sigh. "Somethings happening between us, but I can't trust you if you continue to keep secrets from me. I need to know if theres another woman in your life. I need to know who's name is on your ribs, because it wasn't Noah's."

Edward swallowed the lump in his throat and breathed deep. This was the time. He'd agonized over it for days, especially after the onslaught from his brother, and came to the conclusion that if he didn't at least try when it came to Winry he would spend the rest of his miserable life wondering 'what if'. He staggered to his feet in the dark studio and moved to sit on the couch, gazing out the front window and down onto the quiet street as he spoke to her.

*Noah and I had a daughter together. Her name was Nina, and she was my whole world. My first tour of duty resulted in the loss of my limbs and one of my closest friends, and Noah was already struggling with life as a military spouse. She had a drinking problem, she was lonely, and she was unfaithful. She cheated on me while I was in Afghanistan. I had known about her issues and had done everything I could and called in every favor to try and get her help from where I was on the other side of the world, but Noah didn't want to get better so I couldn't do much for her. I filed for divorce, but was unable to get Nina relocated to my brother's house or even to Noah's parents, because we were stuck in a custody dispute that I had to deal with while being at WAR. When I was finally out of the hospital the military sent me home and in that time I used every ounce of energy I had to try and gain full custody of Nina, but courts are reluctant to remove children from mothers and I was sworn to secrecy by Noah's parents that I wouldn't let the divorce become a media circus. They were giving me the money I needed to start over so long as I kept things quiet, and even if I betrayed them and told the courts of Noah's adultery and drinking habits, it still wouldn't have guaranteed me full custody because I was an active duty soldier, and a successful automail surgery meant I had another deployment coming up. It was during my second tour in Afghanistan that my whole life ended.*

Winry sat transfixed by his story, but feared for the ending as he took a shaky breath and continued with a raspy, sorrowful voice.

*I'll never forgive Noah…. I'll never fucking forgive her for leaving Nina alone with _him_. Nina was home sick, she had an illness for a while that kept her home from school. Noah decided that she needed more beer and just couldn't wait, and instead of sending her fuckboy out for it, she left him home with my daughter.*

Edward's voice grew angry and bitter, bringing the slowly rising panic in Winry's chest to nearly overflow as her hand flew to her mouth. She regretted having ever asked, and no longer wanted him to finish.

*You know what happened? He passed out. He shot up a bunch of heroin, lit a cigarette, and fucking fell asleep on the living room couch. He burned my home to the ground with my little girl sick in bed.*

Tears fell freely down Winry's skin and she struggled to steady her breathing. Of all the things he could have told her, in a million years she could never imagine something so horrible.

"Edward stop." She begged, but he ignored her, and instead gave her exactly what she asked for. She wanted the truth? He would give her the ugly, awful truth of all his suffering.

*Oh, and you wanna know the best part?!* He shouted, misery and brandy unwinding him. Ed's blurry consciousness didn't care about the blow he was about to deliver, he was tired and tortured and so so pissed off that she had that _fucking book all along_ , and so with a bitter laugh and a falling tear, he swung.

*I WON the custody battle, Winry. In three months I was going home and would be taking my 4 year old away from her train wreck of a mother to finally have the life she deserved. In three goddamn months!*

The force of impact shattered his cellphone against the opposing wall, and the stale silence of the dropped line wrenched on Winry's heart violently as the tears flowed freely. She couldn't hold back her sobs any longer; she cried out of shame for prying. She cried for Edward, for Noah, and for little Nina, who's name was forever etched into the skin of her father, who loved her more than life itself.

* * *

A/N: I've been gone for so long and I'm sorry. This story is really hard to write. I can't tell you all how much it means that you've stuck with me, your reads and reviews are the world to me. Theres only a few chapters left, I promise to get them out as quickly as I can. Feel free to visit my tumblr page (c-mary-c dot tumblr dot com). I'll be back soon!


	15. Chapter 15

You were a risk,

a mystery,

and the most certain thing I'd ever known.

-Beau Taplin

* * *

*If you don't come back and get the rest of your stuff I'm gonna throw it out. You're lucky I'm even being nice enough to call you.*

Nellie was on the rampage, and Winry found herself rolling her eyes as usual and asking herself that all too familiar question: why me? The phone call had come early -7am on a Saturday- and had woken her from the sleep it took all night for her to achieve. Every time she closed her eyes she thought of Edward. Winry thought of the fight at the auto mail shop, how accusatory she'd been -how STUPID she'd been. How she'd yelled at him. How they'd yelled at each other. It may not have been nice, but Edward wasn't wrong when he called her a bitch. Winry sighed heavily as she sat up on her floor-supported mattress.

"What stuff? I could swear I got everything out." She asked.

Nellie was in no mood for pleasantries -not that she'd ever had many for Winry before- and she smoothed out the front of her Burberry sweater and cast her eyes to her packed luggage by the door. She would have to take a later train to her family's house upstate.

*You left a bag of tools and a sweatshirt. I need you to come get them now before I put them in the garbage, you're making me late.*

Winry's bristling anger almost convinced her to tell Nellie exactly what she could do with said bag of tools, but she stopped.

"What sweatshirt?" She questioned as she clambered to her feet and began shuffling around her chilly sublet for the day's outfit.

*It's a red zip-up hoodie.*

Images once again shuffled through Winry's mind, this time in rapid fire. The storm, him showing up in the rain to return her book, the chair he'd hung the sweatshirt over to dry, his shirtless sculpted body, the way he held her hands, the beautiful split-second when their mouths met, the way she'd wanted to be devoured by him.

"Crap." Winry said, snapping out of it. "Okay yea I'll come get them right now."

Nellie huffed, knowing Winry would still be at least another half hour.

*Well just get here ok? I'm not allowed to leave this stuff in the hall and getting you this crap shouldn't be my problem.*

The train ride uptown provided Winry with the free time to reflect on the past two days, and as much as she fought it, the raw bitterness of Ed's usually warm and welcoming voice turned scathing and merciless invaded her and filled every space of her mind. She wasn't sure why she was even going through the trouble to get his sweatshirt back; she knew it was the true motivation behind going uptown. She didn't really NEED the tools, the shop had more than enough, but the sweatshirt would be an excuse to see him.

 _'What the hell could I possibly say to him? What the hell do you say to someone who's experienced so much loss?'_

She shook her head in disgust at herself, knowing that Ed would likely want nothing to do with her, and rightfully so. She'd been unfair to him, but in her defense he'd also pressed her to give up her story before she was ready; in a way it was an eye for an eye, not that she'd intended it.

A fast-paced curve on the tracks rocked the subway car suddenly, sending Winry off-balance and thumping her hard against the back of her seat and soreness spread over her still-healing skin. It seemed that nothing would stop reminding her of Edward that day, and she knew that she would need to swallow her humiliation and force herself to see him. She would have to try to make things right, even if they never saw eachother again after today. She couldn't live the rest of her life knowing that the person responsible for healing her brokenness had in-turn been left broken by her.

* * *

Edward Elric was miserable. His first day back at Alchemy the day after the funeral was as if he wasn't there at all; he sequestered himself in his office to drink whisky alone, only emerging to use the bathroom and speaking to no one unless it was urgent.

He made sure everyone understood that nothing that day would be considered "urgent".

Stacks of books and tracings peppered the floor around the sofa he dozed on. Sleep was the only comfort he had from the agonizing recollection of his conversation with Winry. He'd berated himself mercilessly for telling her the truth, partially because he hated telling the story but also because he never wanted to make her feel bad -which he knew he'd done.

Edward had acknowledged both their responsibilities in the dysfunction of their strange relationship -a gross disregard of effective communication was the poison to any hopes of getting along. As draining as it had been to spend all his time trying to figure her out without revealing his own pain, it was proving to be far more exhausting spending his conscious hours wondering what she thought —if he would ever see or hear from her again.

Rationality would ask "why not?", but fear and pessimism wouldn't allow him to be hopeful. That same fear and pessimism was robbing him of a joy he never thought he'd know again, and yet while Edward recognized it within himself, he couldn't bring himself to truly acknowledge it let alone speak it out loud.

Voicing the true depths of his affection for Winry Rockbell would surely destroy him, and that was why he would remain silent -why he would never again reach out to her. It was why she could never know.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knocking at the door.

"Ed?" The door creaked open to reveal a nervous-looking Envy. "Sorry Ed, there's an issue with a client out here. Scar and Havoc stepped out for lunch earlier and I need help with this guy. He doesn't wanna pay."

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly before sitting up. Golden hair fell loose from normal restraint in wild tangles down his back and over his shoulders, and he scratched at two day's of dark scruff on his jaw. Envy knew better than to ask when he'd last eaten or to mention the shaded circles under his eyes.

"Is he not happy with your work, Ve?" He graveled, having barely spoken a word to anyone.

"He says he likes the tattoo but doesn't agree on the price. Says he didn't understand what he signed."

Ed sighed again and rose from his spot on the sofa, not bothering to make any attempts at looking more presentable for the public eye as he ambled out of his office in his wrinkled black pants and shirt, with Envy skittering nervously behind him and connecting a worried glance with Greed as they passed -he would keep an ear out as he focused on the tattoo he was doing, Edward had little-to-no tolerance for people attempting to not pay and even on his most pleasant days he had a hard time being polite about it.

The man at the front counter wasn't raising his voice to Sheska, but it was obvious he wanted to. His red face and wide eyes paired with pulsing veins and a fair amount of finger pointing to sum up a man who's rage boiled just beneath the surface. Edward sidled up next to her and eyed the man —a lanky character in his mid-thirties with short-cropped sandy hair— and sent him a look to convey his lack of enthusiasm for such difficult behavior.

"What's the issue here?"

The angry man pointed at both Sheska and Envy. "These two are trying to rob me blind. I signed a paper that said it would be $150, and now they're saying I owe $900. This is bullshit, man."

Sheska had produced the signed contract for Ed to look over, and he glanced up at the man's bandaged arm.

"Are you happy with Envy's work?" Edward asked, to which the man nodded. "Okay, here's what you signed…"

Ed's eyes fell to the name on the contract. "…Barry. So yea it's $150, PER HOUR. Not for the whole thing. $150 is our shop minimum and we charge that for little shit — small stuff from flash that we can spit out in less than an hour. You have a SLEEVE. Envy custom drew that for you, I saw her do it this morning. This kind of work takes an entire day, she blocked out her whole schedule just for you, so you're the only person she's making money from today. I'm not gonna pay her a 65% commission on only $150. Custom art costs money."

The red-faced man grew nearly purple and his quiet rage exploded to near violence.

"I'm not paying fucking almost a thousand bucks for this! That's not what I signed! These dumb broads don't know how to properly explain shit and if I knew it was gonna cost that much I wouldn't have stayed!"

Ed pushed his sleeves to his elbows casually and folded his arms to make the man aware that he bore automail, even though he wasn't feeling well enough to fight with it after having it painfully serviced unexpectedly while in Philly. He was already having a bad day, and he'd impressed Sheska and Envy with his calmness considering the circumstances. His calmness was quickly waning.

"Sir, this contract is simple. There's no fine print, no asterisks, none of that shit. I'm a businessman, I don't waste my time trying to con people. It says very plainly what the rate is per hour, and you've been here since this morning. If you don't have the money we can talk about a payment plan and—"

"—I don't need a fucking payment plan!" The man screeched at Ed, eyes bulging in anger and sweat pouring from his brow. He slammed an angry fist down on the black desktop earning a startled jump from Sheska, who then shrank behind Edward with Envy. "I gave the dumb bitch with the glasses $150 and that's all I'm giving—"

"—Get out." Ed demanded. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out two bills, pushing them into the irate man's hand as Ed rounded the desk to show him the door. "I'm giving back your $150 just so you can leave. Get out of my shop and don't come back."

The man stood his ground in protest.

"Well I gotta come back, the dikey one didn't finish, said I'd have to come back for a second session or some shit."

Envy piped up angrily, "Prick! What the fuck did you call me?!" and it was all the motivation that the clearly drug-induced man needed to lunge for her.

Edward had officially had enough. His head was pounding, his right shoulder was throbbing, and he'd been managing to hold back the angry tears for most of the day. It was without preemptive thought that his steel hand latched onto the man's throat and slammed him into the nearby wall.

"No one abuses my staff! Get the fuck out and never come back!" He roared. It was only when the shop door opened and Edward caught blonde hair and blue eyes on his vision's periphery that he released the suffocating man.

"…You're a psycho…" The man rasped as he coughed and clutched his throat, stumbling away and out of the door. "…a fucking psycho…"

Self-awareness suddenly drowned Edward where he stood as Winry blinked back at him at a loss for words. Sheska and Envy's state of mutual shock was no longer the result of the incensed man and was now the cruel irony unfolding before them; they had silently prayed for days that Winry would show up, she seemed to be the only thing that made Edward happy, and her absence was very obviously killing him.

Winry swallowed hard, the red hoodie falling from her tingling fingertips as the images flashed in her mind's eye, the memories of a cold and clammy grip around her neck and visceral, dark eyes pouring over her as she suffered.

Edward reached toward her and Winry snapped to, stumbling backward to fumble out the door. She barely recongnized her own voice as it came out, just above a whisper.

"…I've come at a bad time…"

"Winry wait, please. It's not—"

But she was gone, heart in her throat as she raced down the steps and out the building's front door. Edward watched her hopelessly from the window as she stood on the cobblestoned street trying to catch her breath, and he cursed loudly before turning on his heel and he stormed over to his apprentice.

"That guy was high off his ass, did you agree to tattoo someone on coke?!" He barked. Envy rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Of course not! He seemed fine this morning! He must've taken a hit while in the restroom. The last hour was a pain in the ass because he was so fucking fidgety."

Ed's fists clenched at his sides when he thought of Winry; the look on her face when she saw him with his hand around the man's throat. For the second time in a week shame bulldozed him into the ground, and he glared at Envy and Sheska, trying to convey his inner fiery hell, but they were far too perceptive to not notice the distraught desperation lingering underneath. He said nothing to them as he thundered down the length of the studio and disappeared into the dark abyss of his office, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls.

"You better fix this." Greed casually warned from his station, having had perfect view of the incident for himself and his client. His black eyes leveled on them, Envy and Sheska exchanged looks before springing into action, the shop apprentice darting after her Master and the receptionist clambering down the stairs and out the front door to chase down Winry.

* * *

"Winry wait!" She panted as she ran down the street. Winry stopped at the corner at the sound of her name and turned, watching Sheska catch up to her.

"He was defending us, he protected us." Sheska huffed out.

"He had his automail around that man's throat, he could have easily killed him."

"Ed would never! Come on, you really think Ed is dangerous?"

"You know he is." Winry stated, to which Sheska couldn't argue. Whether you were pro or anti automial, the fact that automail had been weaponized was a brutal truth no one could ignore. It gave power to those who had been previously stripped of it, and while most people used the technology to regain the normalcy they'd lost, sometimes the power would go to their heads.

Sheska had run out into the autumn chill after Winry without grabbing a coat and the hairs on her arms stood on end as she hugged herself to get warm.

"Ed's not gonna hurt you, he's not a violent person. He's just going through a lot of shit. Did he tell you about Noah?" She asked Winry.

"Yes, and Nina as well. He and I... I don't know what's going on between us. We just can't seem to get on the same page and-

"-Because neither of you are being honest!" Sheska stressed, voicing the frustrations of everyone surrounding Edward. "Do you have feelings for Ed?"

Such an upfront question rooted Winry were she stood despite her desperate wish to flee. She flushed and stammered for only a moment before admitting defeat and knowing that beating around the bush was not only juvenile, but ultimately pointless. She knew what she really wanted, and that she could never hope to have it if she didn't release the clutches of control just a little.

"...Yes, but-"

"—Fantastic lets go." Sheska quipped as she grabbed Winry's arm, and pulled her back down the street before shoving her through building 27's entry.

* * *

"Ed I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Ve, that guy was a prick." Edward sighed from the confines of his darkened office. Envy stood outside the closed door.

"Not that… Winry. I know how badly you want to see her Ed. Sheska told me so, and you can't fool her." This made a corner of Ed's mouth tip up slightly, the closest he'd come to grinning in almost a week. Sheska was far too intelligent for most people, and he should've known trying to deceive her would be as fruitful as her engaging in hand-to-hand combat with him.

"We'll get Winry back here Ed, I promise."

"No, I don't wanna force her here. I never did. Anyway it's all shot to shit now, she's probably afraid of me." He remarked bitterly when anger surged in him once more.

Envy paused. "…You're the nicest guy in the world, why would Winry fear you?"

Anger washed away when the corner of his mouth tipped again. It was nice to know that someone still believed in him.

"…Ed… don't be afraid to go after the life you deserve. Don't turn your back on happiness because of the unknown. Nina wouldn't want it."

She knew she took a significant risk, saying Edward's daughter's name out loud. But she knew she was right, and she knew that although he'd pretended, he had never once stopped listening to what he knew his daughter would want him to do.

"You drew flowers for her, Ed. Nina would've wanted you to draw magic flowers for Winry, so you did."

She walked away from the door, leaving Edward on the other side of it with his head in his hands.

* * *

"This might be a bad time, don't you think?" Winry asked as they were buzzed in. Each step up the stairs built anxiety in her like the turning arm on a jack-in-the-box, just waiting to burst open. Sheska shoved her through Alchemy's doorway before shuddering and rubbing her arms briskly to try and warm up.

"Go talk to Ed." She insisted as she pulled the jacket from Winry's shoulders and tossed it unceremoniously onto the nearby couch. "Please. He's a wreck. You mean a lot to him so get in there."

Winry was given no opportunity to protest before she was shoved in the direction of Ed's office, but turned on her heel and marched right back to the front of the studio.

"Sheska I can't, it's too complicated and he's obviously angry right now."

"That client tried to hurt me and Envy, Ed was miserable before then, but not angry. Please Winry, you saw his face when you walked in. He's been waiting for you, he's just too afraid to go after you because he's worried about getting hurt again."

Winry's eyes fell to the red hoodie -the prize she'd faced her rotten former roommate to get back, the prize that helped Winry finally tell Nellie to fuck off when she was asked what "automail freakshow client" it belonged to. Winry may have had the balls to finally stand up to Nellie on behalf of Edward, but she still ran out of that apartment like the devil was on her heels. She didn't see much difference between the situations; to Winry, Nellie actually was the anti-christ.

She picked up the forgotten sweatshirt, remembering how she'd unabashedly breathed deep into the fabric once out of her old apartment and onto the street, letting Edward's earthy and comforting smell swim in her chest. She'd come this far, she wouldn't turn back now. A determined look was the last glance she gave Sheska as she tipped her chin up high and strode towards the back of the shop. The door to Edward's office yanked open before she could knock and Winry stared in glaring gold.

* * *

Edward's office was a cacophony of clutter. Winry's eyes adjusted slowly to the lack of light, the only illumination provided by gothic wall sconces and dripping white tapers on the desk. A dozen single flames danced shadows along the walls, casting a warm glow over the tufted baroque sofa and the tall piles of papers and and books. Edward crossed the room away from her and Winry carefully shut the door behind her, sealing them into the darkness together.

"Sorry I scared you, I'm in a bad mood today. Why are you here?" He said curtly before finally turning to her, his brilliant golden eyes cutting the darkness like the candles around them.

His glare reduced to a state of frustration and exasperation upon seeing her there, exhausted from the emotional back and forth between them. Edward knew what he wanted, and while he had never been a timid man he was always cautious. But he was tired of his agony, tired of the mixed messages, and tired of watching Winry slip through his fingers like smoke due to their messy pasts.

"I'm not afraid, just taken by surprise. I should've called before coming." She said.

Edward made no steps toward her, carefully monitoring his actions to ensure he wouldn't frighten her away. But he could see the difference in how she carried herself, same as the day he'd finished her tattoo. He knew she spoke the truth —she did not fear him.

"Why did you come?" He asked carefully. Delicate fingers curled into the fabric of Ed's sweatshirt as Winry breathed, trying to quell the fluttering of her heart.

"I wanted to return this…" She said somewhat lamely, her voice dying softly as his eyes bore into hers. The weight of the air shifted —becoming heavy, thick, and full of the unresolved tension that had brewed between them for so long. Seeing him again drove home just how badly she'd missed him, and how she'd do anything for them to be on the same side.

"Is that all?" He replied. Not a question, an implication.

"…I needed… I needed to know something…" Breath was abandoning Winry, or rather that her heart raced suddenly faster than it ever had in Ed's presence before. She exhaled, attempting to rebuild some armor. "I thought you might want to know that my back is healing well."

Excuses.

Edward said nothing as he advanced on her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She did not step away.

"Why did you come here, Winry?" He questioned with a sly grin, knowing full well the answer but not allowing himself to bathe in the beauty of it until she voiced it. Her pounding heart didn't answer, and looked for a distraction as want's intoxication quickly filled her.

"Um, these candles," Winry said, turning her focus to the dripping tapers on his desk. "You should put them out. They could send this place up in seconds." She set to work blowing them out, and Ed grinned in amusement, watching the yellow glow from the flames intensify in her golden hair as she crept close, before the pillowy pink lips he'd obsessed over for so long drew together to force her breath —obliterating the flame to smoke, curling and climbing high in the ever-growing darkness. As she blew out a candle, he stepped to her. She blew out another, he advanced again. When Edward stood only a breaths distance from her, she stood straight once more, feeling his presence standing over her, the last flame forgotten. His sweatshirt slipped from her weakened fingers, falling to the floorboards as her deep azure eyes drank in the golden beauty that looked down over her, mesmerized by the flickering light illuminating his obvious desire. Edward's voice was deep and warm when he prompted once more,

"Why are you here, Winry?"

"Because I needed to see you." She confessed. "I want you to know how sorry I am."

Edward no longer cared about how she'd forced the truth from him; she knew his secret, and he hers, and still she returned. It was all the invitation he needed.

"Does your back still hurt?" He murmured, his words breathing over her lips as he leaned into her.

"No." She breathed. An automail hand reached slowly to the candle, his forefinger and thumb closing over the wick to snuff out the flame, shrouding them in darkness.

"Good." He said.

And he kissed her.

* * *

"What do you want with me, man? I gave you the goods now let me go!"

Barry Bostic was a corrupt cop. His personal lack of enthusiasm for Commissioner Mustang fueled his deviant behavior. He spent most of his free time buying and selling drugs, drinking alone at home, and picking up prostitutes. The run-in he'd had with Edward at Alchemy was his their first encounter, but the person who currently had his hand vice-gripped in the front of Barry's shirt seemed to know Ed, or at least have some grudge against him.

Only it wasn't a person. It was a creature. A robot. A THING.

Their meeting was scheduled via text, their connection made through mutual acquaintances in the NYPD. But when Barry saw what he who scheduled to sell to, he threw the coke at his customer and moved to run away without payment. Until he was stopped in his tracks by a fist holding his shirt collar.

Barry was given no response, only 2 typed letters in an unsealed envelope thrust against his chest before the sound of whirring mechanics left him standing in the quiet alley alone again. Shaking fingers attempted to hold the typed letter steady as Barry read its contents:

WRAP THE SECOND ENCLOSED LETTER AROUND A BRICK AND PUT IT THROUGH ALCHEMY'S WINDOW IMMEDIATELY.

IF YOU DON'T, I WILL KILL YOU.

BRING ME ALL PERSONAL FILES ON EDWARD ELRIC AND WINRY ROCKBELL.

IF YOU DON'T, I WILL KILL YOU.

BRING ME EXHIBIT A FROM EVIDENCE ON THE ROCKBELL/ARCHER CASE.

IF YOU DON'T, I WILL KILL YOU.

MEET ME AT PIER 91 AT MIDNIGHT.

IF YOU DON'T, I WILL KILL YOU.

Minutes later, a brick shattered through the window at Alchemy.

* * *

A/N: This chapter MURDERED ME it was so difficult to write. I wrote it, then hated, then wrote it again, then still hated it. I seriously wrote this bitch like 4 times so THATS why i've been gone! Trust me, every message I got asking where I disappeared to was a turn of the knife, but I'M HERE! I MISSED YOU! And guess what? Some major shit is about to go down. Its on kids.

Thanks for the reads and reviews, I look forward to hearing from you guys! More soon!


	16. Chapter 16

Something wicked this way comes.

—W. S.

* * *

Edward looked out through the space where the clear glass once was and down onto the street. His mouth twisted into a scowl, thinking of all the ways he'd love to beat the person responsible and hoping that the camera on the nearby traffic light might've caught the incident. The impact of the brick on the glass was loud, and the frightened shriek from Sheska even louder. Loud enough to carry from the front of the studio over the music and the buzzing tattoo machines and through the closed office door to disrupt the beautiful moment he had finally captured with Winry.

It had been like breathing fresh air after suffocating. Like eating after starving for so long. Like plunging into warm waters after walking naked in a snow storm. The ecstasy of it was a greater high than any drug, numbed his mind better than any drink, tightened his heart and quickened his breathing as though he'd ran for miles. Edward didn't know how much time had passed from the moment he kissed her to when he pulled her body against his and smoothed his hands across her back. She whimpered into his mouth and he knew she'd lied; her back was still healing and she was still in pain, but it became clear that her mind was far away from focusing on physical pain when she gripped a fistful of his loose hair and pulled him deeper into her mouth, touching his tongue with hers. His reaction was enthusiastic to say the least; his grip around her tightening, his natural hand reaching down to grab a handful of her beautiful backside. Another whimper, but not a pained one. A breathless one. One swift sweep of his arm sent the stacks of papers and tall wax candles flying off his desk before he'd deposited Winry on top of it, stopping only briefly as her knees parted to bring him closer, and his hands dove into her hair to cradle her head as he kissed her heatedly. Winry's mouth was everything Edward had dreamt of and more. Sweet and warm and satisfying; she bit his bottom lip with a playful giggle and he lost himself, pressing his hand to her back carefully and pulling her flush to his hard body again. His mouth found her neck, his hand dipped under her shirt to skim the lace of her bra, and a loud crash and scream shocked them back to reality.

Envy had already set to work sweeping up the glass and Winry grabbed another broom to help her while Sheska called Roy Mustang. Edward hadn't shown the envelope to anyone after he'd pulled it off the brick, and he motioned for Winry to follow him back to his office again. His grave expression pushed her heart into double time as she walked after him, slowing to stop near the door to office. He unfolded the letter that he'd read earlier and seeing it sent ice over Winry's veins the same as Edwards. It stated a simple message:

SHE IS MINE. I WILL BURN YOU.

* * *

Winry's hands wouldn't stop shaking. She sat in the corner club chair in Edward's loft with a cup of tea while she waited for him to finish talking to Mustang downstairs and ran the words through her mind over and over.

 _She is mine, I will burn you. She is mine, I will burn you._

 _I will burn you._

 _I WILL BURN YOU._

Her heart deflated as she set down the empty cup and wiped away her tears, for she knew that despite her best efforts, she would never escape Archer. Her life would be an endless game of cat and mouse.

She couldn't bring Edward into it.

Archer's black eyes flooded her mind again. Which would be worse, she wondered. To spend her life alone, running from him an always looking over her shoulder? Or to stay and risk Ed's safety? The question was too easy for her to answer, but explaining it to Edward would be impossible. He was too brave and too stubborn to let her walk away with this burden on her own. Winry stood and pulled on her jacket, her mind made up. She would have to run, and it wouldn't be until she was long gone that she could contact Edward to tell him the real reason why. Winry could only pray that he would someday forgive her, for she would have to do something terrible to ensure he wouldn't want to come after her.

She crossed the room and grasped the bottom handles on the single window firmly before yanking the old, rotted window open. Years of paint chips splintered off the aging wood and she wiped her hands on her jeans as she leaned partially out the window to test her weight on iron fire escape. Satisfied that it would hold her despite its obvious age, Winry angled back into the attic space and put her ear to the closed door, listening to Edward's voice carry from the studio as he spoke to the authoroties. Her time dwindling, Winry crossed to the desk on the opposite wall and started pulling open drawers and rifling through stacks of drawings until she found a blank page and a pen.

* * *

"Witnesses on the street said he was an ordinary man. Kinda scrawny but nothing distinguishing, definitely not matching the description of this Archer guy." Mustang said. Edward breathed out angrily, knowing in his heart that it had to be Winry's ex behind the latest commotion but without proof he would just sound crazy.

"Are you absolutely certain about the description you gave me? Of what you saw following Winry the night she called you for help?" Roy pressed, alluding to the beastly, mechanical _thing_ Edward claimed to be after Winry.

"I'm positive. I've never seen anything like it. He's gotta be connected to this, he's obsessed with her and he's still out there."

Roy pulled his long black trench on with a dejected shake of his head. "I wish there was more I could do Ed, but with no proof or probable cause I can't just order officers to scour the city for something inhuman. Even if he is a monster like you say, he's checking into his PO and we've got no evidence of him leaving the state. There's no evidence of him violating his parole."

"But what about the flowers? He sent dozens of roses to her apartment with notes saying 'Im watching you'."

"No evidence Ed. We spoke to the florist and they said the order came from online and the email address has since been deactivated. We couldn't trace it back to a computer so it must've come from a phone, but that's where the lead ends. If it was him, he probably threw the phone in the river. That's what any ex-cop would do."

"Seriously? That's all you can give me?" Edward balked at his former commander.

"I can't put out arrest warrants on mere _hunches_ Ed. I pulled Archer's file months ago, he looked like a normal guy. Are you sure he looks like what you wrote in your statement from before, because now you're starting to sound like the crazy one here." Mustang said, his dark eyes sharpening.

Edward stepped back and breathed. He wasn't crazy, he knew what he saw that night.

"Something is missing here. I can't explain how but I know he's involved with this. He's still coming after her, and I won't hesitate to fight if I need to." Edward warned, his steel hand gripping into a fist. Mustang was the last of his officers to exit Alchemy, and Ed called after him as he descended the stairs.

"Pull the file again." Edward said. "He's gonna slip up sooner or later. Somehow he's gonna give himself away, and if he comes near Winry I won't hold back."

Roy eyed him carefully.

"Don't do anything stupid, Fullmetal."

A final nod and he was gone, leaving Edward to reenter Alchemy and sign papers allowing the glass repair men to get to work.

His mind drifted to the woman in his room and how shaken she had been upon seeing the note.

"I need to run upstairs for a few minutes, yell if you need anything." Edward said to the workers as he ascended the stairs and opened the door to his loft.

"Hey Win, sorry that took so long…"

Edward's word's slowed to a stop as he entered the loft and found it empty. He looked around, and then back down the steps behind him, knowing that he hadn't seen Winry leave. It was the chilled air sweeping into the attic that caught his attention and pulled him into the room as papers fluttered off his desk and onto the wooden floors. A folded page with his name was scotch taped to the wall, and he reached for it.

 _Edward,_

 _I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye, but I had my chance and needed to take it. I won't deny how strongly I feel about you, nor do I regret coming back. But I do regret letting you kiss me, it will make it harder for me to forget you._

 _I lied when I said I didn't fear you —In truth I am terrified of you. You used your arm as a weapon and nearly killed someone today, and I have a history of letting my heart make poor decisions. I can't fall for another violent man, I'm already spending my life running from one, so please don't come after me._

 _I need to be with someone simple. Someone predictable. I can't be with someone who has a short temper and the stress of a deceased daughter on top of it._

 _Its just too complicated._

 _Farewell,_

 _-Winry_

* * *

Winry sat alone in her sublet with a cup of tea and red-rimmed eyes. Every time her phone vibrated with a call or text from Edward she spiraled into another crying jag, and it wasn't until he left her a voicemail that she swiped her nose on her sleeve and decided to torture herself. Anxiety ate away at her insides but she had to know for sure if her letter had done it's job.

*If you need me for anything, call me.*

Left stunned and somewhat underwhelmed, Winry disconnected and promptly opened the two texts he had sent her.

[Are you okay?]

[I never meant to scare you.]

It seemed her plan had worked for the time being, and it turned a knife in her heart for while she knew it was best that they not see each other again, she desperately wanted him to be stubborn and hard-headed and come after her. She wanted to hear his voice on her intercom insisting she buzz him in. She wanted to see him standing in her doorway with his confident smirk and glowing eyes. She wanted his protection.

But that would never happen, because now he didn't know where she lived.

Winry stopped herself from sending her address. It would've been smart for her well-being, but she reminded herself that this was no longer about her. Archer would kill Edward if he came near her again, and she knew that somehow she was still being watched. All she could do was lock her doors and keep a knife under her pillow.

* * *

Three days passed during which Edward spent most of his time sketching and manning the front desk. Sheska was clearly shaken by the week's events so Edward pushed some money for a train ticket into her hand and told her to visit her sister in DC for a week or two. It was with a hug and a smile that Sheska gratefully took the opportunity, and it was good for Edward —he was far too distracted to tattoo any clients, so he was glad for the busy work of managing his store. He napped for an hour or two in his office when it was slow during the day; Envy, Greed, and Havoc all knowing that sleep was likely more difficult for him those nights. Getting Winry back only for her to slip through his fingers again so quickly was torturous, and his body wouldn't allow him to sleep at night for fear of what his nightmares could become. He also worried that she would try to contact him and that he would sleep through it.

He was sipping coffee at the front desk when Jean ambled over to him.

"You look like absolute hell."

"I'm aware." Ed muttered, unconcerned with his dark circles and blood-shot eyes.

"This is just getting ridiculous." Jean said. "Have you not heard from her at all? Just go get her for God's sake."

"She moved out because her roommate was making her nuts, she's got a sublet but I have no idea where." Edward said as he scrawled on a sketchpad.

"So go to Garfiel's. She still works there right?"

"Yeah, but she left on her own. Wrote me a note and everything. She doesn't want me to follow her, but I know it's because she's worried about me. She thinks this guy is gonna kill me for being around her."

Jean arched an eyebrow and his eyes connected with Ed's.

"Well we both know how that'll end for him if he tries." He said gravely, eluding to Edward's combat days and how it had taken a roadside bomb to finally bring Edward down. It only resulted in Edward coming back to war with steel limbs and a thirst for the blood of his enemies.

"So why not just set the record straight?"

"Because I don't wanna scare her. I don't want her knowing how dangerous I am. Her ex nearly killed her so I need to be careful and behave rationally."

"Yea well rational thinking is gonna escape you if you don't get some decent sleep." Havoc said as he pulled up a barstool. "My appointment canceled, I'll do this for the rest of the day."

Ed clapped his army buddy on the shoulder appreciatively as he rose and shuffled back through the studio and up the stairs to his loft. As he closed the door behind him, his phone vibrated in his pocket. His heart sank when it wasn't Winry, and his breath left his lungs when he read the text from Roy.

[Archer's file is missing. So is Winry's.]

* * *

"Keep it oiled, and call if there's any problems." Winry said to another happy client as he exited the shop, leaving her alone as she watched the setting sun disappear behind the buildings. She missed Ed horribly and being alone only made it worse, especially at night. She had been taking cabs to and from work each day, but her money was quickly draining and it was with a heavy heart that she realized she would have to walk home tonight alone. Garfiel was out sick and Paninya had opened the store and gone home earlier. Garfiel had been more than understanding of Winry's nervousness and had told her repeatedly to sleep in the shop if she was too afraid to go home, but Archer knew where she worked so her safest option was to go back to her sublet.

Winry zipped up her jumpsuit and closed up shop before stepping out onto the city street. Cars and people whizzed past her as she made her way home, and yet she still felt completely alone. In the interest of being smart, she pulled out her phone and dialed Ed.

*Please tell me you're okay.* He promptly answered.

"I'm fine," Winry said as her eyes scanned her surroundings. "I'm walking home, I just wanted to be on the phone with someone."

*This is giving me deja vu and I don't like it. Duck into a store or something and I'll come take you home.*

His selflessness stopped her words. He took no stock in the very obvious threat Archer had made against him, and her heart broke.

"Ed… I can't put you in danger…" She whispered.

*Stop being so stupid!* Edward barked, halting Winry in her tracks. *I haven't slept in three days because I'm so worried about you! Where do you live Winry?!*

Words stammered out as she resumed her journey, her heart fluttering at his impassioned request.

"…Varick street… I-I live on Varick street…"

*WHERE on Varick? I need a number Winry. I can't keep you safe otherwise.* Ed pressed. Her phone call had roused him from his nap and the initial jarring of his heart was only intensified when he saw who was calling. He was still fighting to slow his speeding heart.

"You can't come over. You can't be seen with me okay? You have to promise me that you won't show up, no matter what."

*Don't ask me to make promises I can't keep.*

Winry approached the door to her building and let herself in, locking it behind her before ascending the stairs.

"I'm home now, thanks for staying on the line with me."

*Please give me your address Winry, just to be safe. Please.* His quiet request squeezed her heart horribly, and she pushed down the urge to beg him to come see her.

"Ok, I'll send it to you. But please don't come here unless you have to. I don't want you at risk."

Ed let out an exasperated sigh; the woman was so damn altruistic and it made him wanna kiss her senseless just to shut her up.

*Winry, you should know something. Your case file is missing from precinct 503. Roy tried to reexamine it but it's gone, along with Archer's.*

Winry opened the door to her sublet and locked it behind her, looking around the emptiness of her tiny living space. The barren walls seemed somehow emptier, the wooden floors harder, the stuffy air more stagnant. Anywhere that Ed wasn't was a place she didn't want to be, but she knew she would have to get over that.

"What if this is my life forever?" She whispered, her voice tightening. Edward sat on his mattress in his loft and bit his clenched fist, shoving down the mist springing to his eyes and the ice pick piercing his heart. "What if I'm never safe? What if I can never see you again?" She hiccuped through the soft cries.

*I won't let that happen, understand? It's only a matter of time before he fucks up and that's when Roy's people will strike.*

"Roy's people?" Winry sneered. "Those people of his did nothing to help me the first time Frank Archer was ruining my life. They helped him get the minimum sentence even though he nearly killed me."

*Roy wasn't at the 503 when this happened, he'd only heard about the case from afar. He was promoted and sent to that precinct to help Internal Affairs irradicate coruption. You can trust Mustang, he was my commander in the army and he's one of my closest friends. He'll have our backs.*

"Well I'll believe it when I see it. So far I can guess Archer probably still has friends on the inside who are helping him, and if they hid the most incriminating piece of evidence before, what would stop them from doing it now?"

*What evidence from before? What was missing?* Ed asked. Winry double checked the locks on her door and said,

"The knife he used when he cut me open."

* * *

Shaking hands presented the messenger bag and laid it on the concrete. Cold midnight air blew off the water, sending shocks up a shivering spine.

"I did what you asked for Frank. I cleaned 'em out, theres nothing left. I can't be a part of this anymore, Mustang is sniffing around and I'm gonna be fucked if I keep it up."

The stern silence of indifference left Barry uneasy, wondering wether or not it was okay for him to leave. Mechanics whirred and advanced on him, and suddenly his feet left the ground to dangle in the air helplessly. His body twitched wildly as he fought to pry away the vice grip around his throat, but to no avail. A few garbled chokes, and his body slackened.

Barry Bostic was pitched into the icy waters, and the last piece of Frank's plan had fallen into place.

It was time to strike.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for your reads and reviews, and thanks for sticking with me! I hate that it takes me so long to update, but I promise I'll never leave a story without an ending. I'm working on the ending for this as we speak. Also, shits about to hit the fan in multiple ways. More soon.


	17. Chapter 17

Strong people stand up for themselves,

but stronger people stand up for others.

-unknown

* * *

November brought chilling winds and with it, an unusually early snowfall. 3 inches of white powder would never disturb a New Yorker, yet Roy Mustang stood on the curb outside 27 Wooster St with dusted shoulders and a heavy heart as he looked up at Alchemy's new front window.

"You sure about this boss? I mean, it's Fullmetal." Hymens Braeda was a lot like an english bulldog. Tough, loyal, and stocky. He'd follow his Commissioner to hell and back, but he wasn't dumb, and he wasn't afraid to ask the questions that needed asking.

"I'm not sure Braeda, but you know its not personal. Its the job we signed up for."

"But it's _Ed_. He served along side us, he's a good guy. He'd never—"

"—Ed has a hard life, a short temper, and not much left to lose. As much as I don't want to believe it, it would make sense for him to do this. He has the motivation." Roy said, his mouth set in a grim line. They cast each other a final look before buzzing up and ascending the stairs to Alchemy.

Greed stood at the front desk and exchanged friendly handshakes with the two lawmen upon their entering.

"Haven't seen you in a while Mustang, how're things?"

Roy Mustang's midnight eyes scanned the bustling studio and honed in on Edward towards the back, sitting in a small booth tracing over the lightbox.

"Things are bad." He answered. "How busy is Ed right now?"

Greed started connecting the dots and his happy demeanor fell away as he looked down at the day's schedule.

"There's nothing on his book for today until later, I'd say he's just preparing for that."

Roy's request for Braeda to stay up front with Greed was met with a simple nod before Mustang walked back to meet Ed. He glanced over Ed's shoulder.

"Flowers huh? I thought you didn't draw those for people anymore." He said. Edward turned and looked up with a sheepish grin and a brightness in his eyes that Roy hadn't seen in years.

"Well I don't, but I made an exception for Winry."

Mustang's heart fell to his feet for the second time that day. He swallowed hard.

"Ed, we need to talk. Somewhere private."

The grave look on his friend's face sent Ed's heart racing as he rose from his seat and showed Mustang to his office. Roy's eyes connected to Braeda for him to follow them back, and they shut the door behind them. Once inside the quiet confines of his office Edward turned to address them.

"Whatever it is tell me fast, you're freaking me out." He said, recalling the last time Roy had pulled him aside to deliver devastating news.

"Where were you 4 nights ago? On Wednesday?" Mustang asked, all personal attachments put aside and professionalism in full force. As much as he wanted to be a friend, he had to be a cop.

"Wednesday?" Ed mused, he opened his phone and scrolled through his schedule to jog his memory and that's when it flooded back. "Oh right, I was here."

He silently wondered how he could've forgotten, it was the day he finally kissed Winry, and probably would have tried for more if it hadn't been for the asshole who sent a brick through his front window.

"You mean you didn't close up shop that afternoon when the window was shattered?" Braeda asked.

"I did. But I didn't see the need to sleep elsewhere that night, plus I wanted to be here to guard the shop until the repair guys could bring some new glass the next day. I couldn't leave all this equipment here with a massive open hole in the front of my store, not to mention the safe is upstairs."

"Can anyone vouch for you? Do you have cameras?"

"Sorry, what's this about?" Ed asked. "Am I in trouble for something?"

Mustang and Braeda exchanged a look before Roy reached into the breast pocket of his black trench and produced a fe photographs.

"You recognize this guy?"

Ed's eyes widened slightly at the sight of a body, grayish and plumped from water absorption with white, unseeing eyes. It only took a moment for Ed to make the connection.

"Yeah, this guy was in the store that day." He said, handing the photos back. "He came in for a tattoo, became belligerent when it was time to pay, and I threw him out. His name was B something-"

"—Barry Bostic." Roy interjected. "He was a police officer. He was seen at the 503 that evening and then didn't show up for his shift the day after. His body washed up at Chelsea Piers two nights ago, autopsy shows he was dead before he went into the river."

"So what's this got to do with me?" Ed asked.

"Security footage from neighboring storefronts as well as traffic lights showed someone stumbling out of your building entrance Wednesday clutching his throat. 40 minutes later those cameras caught the same person returning to throw a brick through your window. It was Barry."

Edward eyed him curiously. "Sorry, I don't follow."

"This guy's neck was broken, and the bruises match automail. The tenants living downstairs where both out of the country when this happened and they don't carry automail anyway. You're the only person in this building with automail and yours fits the size of the bruises on this guy's neck."

Panic filled Ed's chest as he looked back and forth between his two comrades. "Okay… I was pissed at this guy and I grabbed him, but I didn't break his neck. You said so yourself he left the shop and then came back to break my window."

"There are people who believe you went after him later. What's the nature of your relationship with Winry Rockbell?" Roy pressed, hating himself more and more with each minute that passed. Ed was lost for only a moment as he thought of how to describe such a thing.

"We're …friends I guess."

"You care about her more than that." Roy said with a knowing look. "You must, after the way you reacted when she was attacked by Noah, and if you're drawing flowers for her. You've been obsessed with her for a while now Ed, and the brick Barry threw had a direct threat for you to stay away from Winry. Did you follow this guy and kill him?"

"NO! Of course not!" Ed paced the small room as he searched his mind for an alibi, anything that could prove he hadn't left the studio that night. "What about those camera's outside? You said they show the building's entrance—"

"—But not the back alley. You have a fire escape scaling the rear of the building that peaks at your attic window and there's nothing to prove you didn't leave that way."

"Do you have security cameras?" Braeda asked, to which Ed shook his head defeatedly.

"I've been saving up for an advanced system, but the money just isn't there yet. No one was here with me that night…" He trailed off, knowing he had no alibi to prove his innocence, when his mind went to the late night conversation he'd had with Winry that evening. "In the letter he told me to stay away from Winry, what's his connection to her? How did they know each other?"

"We have a theory, but we need to question her next."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Mustang considered his friend's request for a moment. "….I'm not supposed to share that information with you, Fullmetal."

Edward pulled a pack of cigarettes from a desk drawer and lit one as he shot Roy a wounded look. "I'm not a fucking terrorist, Flame." He said, referring to Roy's codename from their time in the Army together. "If you want to me clear my name I need help."

"We think he might be the one who's been harassing Winry."

Ed dragged on his cigarette —an indulgence he only craved under extreme stress— and ashed into an empty candlestick holder on his desk. "No, that's her ex who's been messing with her. I don't understand why you haven't brought the hammer down on that guy yet."

"Because there's no hammer to be thrown, Ed. We talked about this. Frank Archer's been checking in with his P.O. regularly, he never leaves his house, and with no evidence to support your claims that he was harassing her theres nothing I can do. My best guess is that Barry Bostic knows Winry because he was on the force with Archer a few years back. Maybe Barry was the one following her and sending her flowers. After all, there's no way Frank Archer could've gotten into the 503 to take all the files that are missing, but Barry could've."

Edward sucked on his cigarette as he listened to Roy and ran a hand through his hair. "Isn't this all speculation? I mean, I definitely didn't kill this Barry guy so you're not gonna find any evidence showing that I did."

"You don't need a video of someone committing the crime to prove they did it. You can put someone away with dates and times, weapons, and probable cause." Mustang said. Edward crushed out his cigarette before looking up at his friends desperately.

"…So are you here to arrest me for a murder I didn't commit?"

Roy and Braeda exchanged somber looks. "We're here to tell you that as of now, you're the number one suspect in the murder of a cop, and if you can't produce an alibi before the arrest warrant goes out, we won't be able to help you no matter how much we wish we could."

They turned to leave and Edward spoke up.

"She's never gonna trust me after this." He said, stopping Roy on his way out. "She already thinks I'm dangerous."

"You are, Ed."

"I'd never hurt her, and I didn't kill this guy. I didn't even seriously injure him. It was an empty threat."

Roy sighed. "Well, we live in a time where even empty threats have to be considered terroristic ones. In the meantime keep a low profile, and if you had any vacation plans cancel them. Leaving town now will only make you look more guilty." Edward rose from his seat to address his friend again.

"You know I didn't do this Roy. You have to know that."

"I want to believe it with my whole heart, but I need you to do your part, Fullmetal. Get me that alibi."

He shut the door as Edward lit another cigarette and poured himself some scotch.

They paired nicely with a downward spiral into hopelessness.

* * *

Winry stood ram-rod straight as she held the letter in her shaking hands; no matter how many times she'd read it she only become more frightened. It had been dropped in the mail slot for her at Garfiel's and she didn't think much of it when she opened it and saw it was from Ed.

 _I need to see you,_ it read.

 _Meet me tonight at Pier 3 on the west side._

 _I need to tell you something important. See you at midnight._

She opened her phone to call him and that's when it hit her like lightning.

—He wouldn't have written her a letter, he would have texted her. Even if he had sent a letter, it would be hand-written. This letter was typed.

The letter couldn't have possibly come from Edward, but rather from someone who wanted him out of the way and knew exactly how to make that happen. Someone who wanted Winry alone. Someone who knew that it was only a matter of a few days before Edward's lack of an alibi landed him in a jail cell.

Roy Mustang had visited to question her 3 days prior and that was when she'd learned of Edward's predicament. Winry had never before been more compelled to rip herself in two and run in opposite directions —one half of her directly to Edward to offer what help she could if any, and the other half of her screaming for the hills and never looking back. She lied to Roy when he asked her if she'd ever witnessed Edward exhibit aggression, and she knew she took an enormous risk in covering for a man who, for all she knew, could very well be guilty of the crime he'd been accused of.

But it didn't change the fact that she KNEW her ex was toying with them both. She just needed a way to prove it. She would never be able to fish out the truth if Frank thought Ed was still sniffing around, so Winry made a choice. She stuffed the note in one of her jumpsuit's pockets and made sure her ID was on her just incase the worst should happen.

Her heart burned. Fists shook not of fear, but fury. All she'd ever wanted was for Edward to not be involved, and now he'd become the very center of her chaotic problems.

 _'I just want a normal life.'_ She thought. _'Just a normal fucking life. Goddamn him for doing this to Ed. For doing this to ME. Fuck this. FUCK THIS!'_

She needed to prove Ed's innocence, and him being stuck behind bars didn't change the precarious nature of her situation.

She knew the note was from Archer.

She knew she could make him talk.

She would risk everything and go to him alone, because she was done being the damsel in distress Frank Archer had made her for so many years. If Edward really had killed Barry Bostic then she could consider it a big bullet dodged, but she couldn't live with herself if he spent his life behind bars for a crime she felt in her gut was tied to Archer. Winry would find the truth, even if she paid the ultimate price for it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for being so patient and so loyal. You guys really are the best. More to come.


	18. Chapter 18

We build castles with our fears

and sleep in them like

kings and queens.

-C. Poindexter

* * *

Winry Rockbell had never been considered timid by those who knew her. Her childhood was one long montage of splashing in mud puddles, scraped-up knees, and school yard scuffles with the neighborhood boys who would tell her to 'go play with dolls'.

Doing what the other girls did just wasn't who she was. She tinkered, always breaking things apart to put them back together. She was a fixer, and that love of reassembly would manifest itself as she matured, shaping her into the healer she would become. All her life, Winry had never been faced with a problem she couldn't solve.

Until Frank Archer entered her life.

Archer was the first time she'd ever felt truly hopeless, and due to lack of experience Winry had no way of knowing how to pull herself out of the situation until she wound up screaming for help to a 911 dispatcher as she bled out on Frank's apartment floor. That particular memory was her mind's choice to replay over and over as she made her way to the docks, pulling her jacket around her tighter to shield from the cold air. The silence felt too calm, it's serenity only doubling her heart rate as she looked around anxiously, waiting for Frank to make his move. She only prayed she'd be able to get what she came for.

The darkness offered no sound besides that of the water splashing up against the wooden beams and concrete slabs below; no souls to be found around her to witness if she be thrown to the frigid depths —the blackness of the water matching that of the night sky. It wasn't long before her phone vibrated in her pocket.

[You must know Elric isn't here. And yet you still came.]

Winry looked around, searching the darkness for a figure and trying to quell the uneasiness that came with vulnerability.

[Don't look around. Stay where you are. I want to look at you.]

Winry typed back with shaking fingers. [[I need to see you. I've been waiting for you Frank.]]

The pause in the darkness was long, her heart thundering as she waited and prayed he'd take the bait.

[I'm sorry it took me so long. I had to get him away from you. I had to make it look good.]

[[Why are we texting? Can't we talk? I miss you.]] She said. Archer was never an idiot, but he was guilty in the past of letting his emotions take over. Winry's best hope was to exploit his feelings as badly as he'd exploited hers.

[I can't speak to you yet, but soon all this will be over. I know the DA, he hates automail and the way people weaponize it. The marks on Bostic's neck should be perfect. Elric's trial will be the fastest anyone's ever seen.]

Alarm bells rang in Winry's head.

 _'How would Archer know about any of this?'_ She thought. She'd easily gotten enough evidence to take some of the heat off Edward, and at the risk of being reckless, she pushed further hoping for something even more incriminating.

[[I knew it was you who sent me the letter, that's why I came. I need to know something Frank.]]

Winry's anxiety continued to rise. Breaths came shallow and quick, a cold sweat breaking on her skin. She willed herself to stay where she was just a little longer, and she continued to type.

[[Why did you hurt me? Was it the drugs?]]

Nausea swept through her as she waited for a reply. This would infuriate him, but the fury would make him crack —as it always had in the past— and she prayed this would make him slip up and reveal more.

A deafening crash shattered the silence and sent her jumping out of her skin as she spun to find the source. A shed not 50 feet away sported a newly-splintered hole in it's side from where a metal kayak had been pitched through the aging wooden walls and smashed to dock's surface before skidding to a stop.

Fear took over, and Winry ran.

* * *

The cell Edward sat in was cold and dimly lit, but it smelled of bleach which provided some comfort knowing it was at least clean.

"Yea the blood was scrubbed out of it the day before you came in." Braeda shrugged from his seat outside the cell. "Some asshole shanked some other asshole."

"I thought this was a holding cell. Where'd a shank come from?"

"Fuck if I know. But don't worry they're not gonna let anyone in there with you, especially since everyone thinks you're violent."

Ed rolled his eyes.

"You know I'm not."

Their eyes connected for a moment. "Ed I know you didn't do this, and in his gut Mustang knows it too. We're trying our best to find proof."

Almost on que, the door near where Braeda sat opened and a fearsome woman of 6 feet marched in and glared at Edward.

"Fullmetal! When the hell were you planning on telling me this involves Winry Rockbell?"

Olivier Armstrong was known in police circles as "the 3 B's": Brilliant, Beautiful, Brawn. It wouldn't be hard to add "Bad-ass" to the list. Anyone unfamiliar with her would almost dismiss her at the sight of flowing blonde hair and glossy pink lips, but that's where the femininity ended and her permanent scowl and relentless bark took over. Mustang had been promoted to her position as Commander when she'd retired from the Army and entered the Police force. She had been integral in pulling Mustang and his chosen soldiers to the 503rd precinct so she could always have a familiar team beneath her.

Wide golden eyes met a blue very different from the aquamarine that engaged his thoughts most of the time.

"Wait, you know Winry?"

"Of course I do. I worked her case three years ago." Armstrong replied, softening only slightly. Edward stood to better meet her eye line.

"Why didn't Mustang mention that to…well, anyone?" He asked, looking from Armstrong to Braeda and back again.

"He may not have known." She said. "He wasn't at this precinct at the time and Rockbell's file has been missing. She was here today, Ed."

"What?! When?!"

Ignoring his question, Olivier produced a key from a crowded ring and unlocked the cell, sliding the door open for Edward to step out.

"A warrant is out for Archer's arrest; he set you up and Winry got him to admit it more or less."

Ed's heart dropped, suddenly desperate to find Winry. "…Can-can I go?"

Armstrong gestured to the door and Ed was gone, leaving Braeda and Olivier to exchange heavy expressions.

"Archer filleted that woman and left her to die," She said to Braeda. "and she went back into that hell to prove Ed's innocence."

* * *

Winry sat on the mattress on her floor at home with a carton of fried rice and the tv acting as low background noise. Attention focused on her macbook, her eyes scanned as she scrolled through the Craigslist ads for sublets; she would need to move again just to be safe, and would probably have to open another credit card to pay for it. Her heart only jumped for a moment when a loud buzzing sounded from the intercom. She sat rooted for a moment, afraid to answer for fear that it could be Archer, but curiosity shuffled her forward to press the button and ask who it was. Time flew too quickly for her mind to process; her hand moving of its own accord before she opened her apartment door and waited, listening to the sound of boots bounding up the stairs and down the hall. And then he was there, sweeping her up and asking her if she was insane. She didn't remember the door shutting behind him, she didn't feel the blanket fall from her shoulders, —Winry only felt the warmth of his body and smell of his skin as her arms went around him. She only felt the sheer elation of knowing her risk was worth it and that Edward was free.

1 a.m. rolled around and awake they remained, on the floor together —just them, the fried rice, and old black & white films on TCM. There seemed to be millions of questions —many unvoiced due to the sheer disbelief of their situation, but Edward had gotten the basics from Winry and sat in awe of her. He'd barely been jailed for four days, yet being away from her in such a way had felt like a lifetime. Being apart of their own volition, while difficult and frustrating, was far easier than the knowledge that they could have been unwillingly separated forever, wether it be by the legal system or by Archer's devastating final blow. While Edward had never been a religious man, he found himself silently thanking some unknown higher power for the crazy woman who could've feared him enough to let him rot for crime he didn't commit, yet didn't. His fingers never left the intertwinement of hers, the feel of her skin being something he didn't know how much he'd truly missed until he was threatened with never feeling it again.

"What happens now?" She asked, the fingers of one hand gently tracing the smokey tattooed lines from his wrist to his knuckles and back, her other palm gently weighted by his. She was equally uneasy to break the connection.

"I spoke to Roy, they're looking for Archer. They're contacting Apple to ask if they can help by tracking Archer. Mustang says the texts he sent you show he was using an iPhone."

"He'll have gotten rid of it by now," She said. "Knowing him, he probably pitched his phone into the river. I pissed him off hoping to make him slip up and give more information, but he threw a steel boat through the broad side of a wooden shed."

Edward pulled his hand from hers, the emptiness from sudden lack of contact earning Winry's focus to his fearful eyes.

"He could have thrown _you_ through a wall. _You_ could have gone into the river like Bostic did. How could you be so fucking reckless?!"

Winry sat agape before stubborn will took over. "Is this you thanking me for saving you?"

"This is me freaking out at the thought of losing you!"

The admission sat heavy between them, hanging only for a moment before her hands were in his hair, his palms sliding up her back, their mouths fighting for dominance before she pulled back only for a moment to breathe,

"You didn't lose me. I'm right here."

Edward silently vowed to never let Winry out of his sight again, because the tether around his heart that pulled at the very thought of her had dragged him kicking and screaming, down the depths of an abyss he swore to never drown in again. Not since Noah. Not since Nina.

But he was helpless against Winry, a sea-siren if he'd ever known one, for every pass of her tongue over his reduced his thoughts to static. The feel of her body beneath his as he pressed her into the mattress fanned a flame in his heart that for years had barely been so much as a simmering ember. She'd conquered the fear of her scars, of her story, and when the Devil came knocking she answered. She broke off with a breathy sigh, looking up at him with a sweet serenity in her gaze he hadn't seen from her before. Despite his palpable fear Winry seemed unfazed, and thats when it hit him —she trusted him completely, because she felt safe with him.

"Stay with me?" She pleaded softly.

That heavy anchor that chained around his heart finally hit the ocean floor.

He never stood a chance.

* * *

He'd been hasty, he admitted, when he killed Barry. His anger at knowing Winry was with the Artist made his blood boil, and he'd lost his temper. Just like he'd lost his temper with Winry at the pier. She'd always angered him so easily. He'd given away too much information, and instead of taking more time to toy with his prey he would be forced to strike quickly. He decided to put what he'd gathered to good use, and once a new cell phone was acquired he would contact his last remaining loyalist from precinct 503.

When he'd come back to town, it was only to watch her. To study her actions, to appreciate her from afar, —for he knew she was always his and always would be. She'd be so impressed at what he'd done, at what he'd _made_ of himself. He imagined the pride that would beam from her to see him in his new state. But that all washed away as he noticed how often she went to the small tattoo shop, how her eyes were so different whenever he'd seen her on the street with the Artist. Her body language when she was with him.

Attempting to frame him had not been enough. More was required. Winry would not return to him while such a distraction was still around.

His new plan was perfect. First, she would be marked again. Then, the Artist would die.

A long silver blade slid down the sharpening block, the resounding ring as pleasing as the low light reflecting off of the stainless steel, however he didn't like that particular stainless steel knife.

He was disappointed with how easily her dried blood had faded from it's blade.

* * *

A/N: Guys, writing is hard. I enjoy it so much but oh my god it's so damn hard. But we're getting there, there's only a few chapters left and it means the world to me that you've all been so patient with me. My OG fanbase from the Perfect Blood days knows that updating at such a slow pace is normally not what I do. This fic is challenging, and on a good note work has me super slammed (April and May are the busiest months of the year for me) so while I'll never complain about having work it does take time away from my writing. I've figured out that I need to be in near solitude to effectively write, and that's not always easy to find in the middle of New York City.

Thanks again for hanging out, more on the way. I'll try not to be away for a month this time.


	19. Chapter 19

If you are willing to do something that might not work,  
you're closer to being an artist.

-Seth Godin

* * *

Ed's eyes opened and for a moment he'd forgotten where he was. The room was empty with blue walls and old wooden floors in bad need of sanding and re-varnishing. There was no furniture, only three large trash bags overflowing with clothes and a couple suitcases in the corner of the room. Sunlight peered through cheap blinds and the small tv on the floor droned on in the background. When he felt a stir next to him was when it came flooding back. He'd been rendered awe-inspired by Winry; to say she had gumption would be saying not nearly enough. She had balls, and when he'd seen how much she was willing to do for him, —the risk she took for his sake, he'd felt his heart latch on and that was it. He recalled the night he'd first told Greed about her, and how Greed had asked if she might be crazy. It was confirmed to him that Winry was undoubtedly nuts because her bravery completely blocked out any concern she should possess for her own well-being. Ed's eyes found her sleeping form lying next to him on the mattress and he breathed out.

She was crazy and brave and strong and he'd never been more obsessed with her.

Edward rolled over carefully and pressed a kiss to her cheek to wake her, her blue eyes fluttering openly lazily before slowly becoming aware. Winry's first whispered words were not what he'd expected.

"…Did we have sex?" She asked carefully. Ed glanced down.

"I don't think so. We're both wearing pants."

"Oh thank God." She said, sitting upright. Edward's quizzical brow made Winry stumble to clarify. "—Not like that, I just mean last night wasn't supposed to be about sex —not to say I wouldn't want— oh crap I'm such a mess right now."

Edward's amused grin quieted her ramblings, she was flustered and so utterly human and it further drove home just how incredible she was. To have the gaul to face her greatest fear just for him, and then turn around the next day and be so charmingly befuddled. His smile grew.

"You're a beautiful mess." He said,

"But a mess nonetheless." She said, eyes traveling over to the empty wine bottle from the previous night.

He slid closer and kissed just below her ear.

"I like it."

Winry's concern for how much wine she'd consumed or the state of her morning bedhead suddenly faded from her consciousness as she turned and let him kiss her again. That night had been more intimate than she was prepared for despite not having sex; true intimacy was finding someone to lay in the dark with and confess your deepest fears to. In Winry's perfect world she would meet someone, have a few nice dinners, and when he'd earned it she'd let him slide his hand up her thigh in the car before going back to her place for some tasteful, shirt-on lovemaking followed by talking about the following weekend's brunch plans and never EVER mentioning her past or her scars.

Edward Elric had fucked that up mercilessly. There were no nice dinners —not even nice drinks, and he'd earned the privilege of feeling her up a little by finding a way to make her comfortable enough to bare her soul without leaving her standing there afterwards wondering what the hell happened. Winry had previously debated wether it be roguish charm or devious manipulation until she realized she held all the cards, because not once did the idea of sex with him scare her. Hypnotic and sexy as he was, she had never felt powerless around him despite the brief period where a previous life had left her suspicious and fearful of all men including him. Ed's hand found her back and pressed her to him as his kiss deepened, and the low groan that escaped from him brought Winry back to rational thought and she broke off gently.

"Sorry," He said, immediately worried he might have done something wrong. "Every time I've tried to do that we got interrupted. Feels good to finally win."

His sheepish grin was too perfect and a small part of Winry cursed it for turning her world upside down, because there was something she was still terrified of that Edward clearly wasn't considering.

"Don't apologize, its not that I don't want to… we just shouldn't right now. He's still out there, and he knows who you are. He knows where to find you."

"Not if I stay here." Ed replied with a suggestive eyebrow wag.

Winry stood and paced the barren room. "He's watching somehow, we both know that. If he sees you coming and going from here then we're fucked, and I wanted to move again just to be safe but I don't have the money for that. I barely scraped together enough to get here."

"Is that why this place is empty? Where's the stuff from your place uptown?"

"I sold everything, and when you didn't charge me for finishing my back I was able to use that money to relocate." Winry attempted casual indifference to being reduced to her few meager possessions but Ed was no fool, and anger burned in his chest. He stood and his hard, assessing eyes found her.

"We need to relocate you." He said, taking her hands in his. "Sheska rents a place down in Battery Park, its small but I'm sure she'd be okay with you crashing on the couch."

"I can't involve anyone else in this mess. It's bad enough already, you got framed for murder!" Winry said, her mind started fitting the pieces together as she'd said the words out loud and that's when she knew her next move. It wouldn't be easy, he would fight her, but she saw no other way. She breathed, bracing herself to say what she hated.

"We can't be together, Edward."

"Don't be ridiculous," He scoffed. "This is a nightmare but we'll get through it, Mustang is gonna find this guy."

"You don't know him like I do." She said, dropping her hands from his and her heart tightened. "You need to disappear from my life completely. He is WATCHING ME, we know that much. If he sees you come anywhere near me I don't know what he'll do next."

"But he—"

"Someone's already turned up dead. I can't afford to be selfish and put you or anyone else at risk."

Ed's gaze grew harder, and Winry found herself unable to meet it. Her heart constricted painfully and she breathed in full and slow to try and quell the dread that had wrapped around her chest and squeezed her tighter with each second. He moved and her face was held between flesh and steel as his eyes searched hers. Hardened assessment now bore a flickering of panic.

"You can't be serious, you're insane if you think I'm leaving you on your own. I don't care what happens to me."

Her eyes watered under his frightened scrutiny.

"…This never should have been your problem… My problems are fucking up your life." He softened at this.

"Win, my life was fucked up way before I met you."

"That's my point, you've been through enough. He's going to come after you again and—"

"—Stop it." Ed's golden eyes grew hard again. "You don't get to tell me about my life, no one does. I won't stand here and listen to your ideas of trying to protect ME, you got that? I don't need protection. If you wanna make me feel better, let me be your shadow as much as I can. He's only harassed you when you were alone, if he's smart he won't try anything while I'm around."

"When he sees you're out of jail he'll be furious."

"Not half as pissed off as I am right now." He barked.

Maybe it was hormones, or stress. Maybe it was her history of dating domineering men, or the romanticism of being a damsel in distress, but whatever it was, listening to Edward lay down the law made Winry want to jump him then and there and do things that went way past her previous notions of tasteful lovemaking with a sweet, harmless gentleman. She restrained herself.

"I have to do some tattoos today," He sighed. "so as much as I wish I could stay I can't. Do you need to be at work or can you come to Alchemy with me?"

"I have clients all day."

Edward felt the smallest wash of relief as he pulled his boots on and stood again. "Well at least you won't be alone. I'll put you in a cab and then head out, but text me tonight and I'll pick you up from work."

Winry's grimace didn't go unnoticed.

"I hate having people fuss over me. I can put myself in a cab after work and meet you back here so you don't have to go out of your way."

"Guess how many fucks I give!?" He shot back harder than he meant to."For someone as scared as you are you're being pretty blasé about all of this. Stop worrying about making me comfortable and worry about yourself for once. For fuck's sake you came crying to me months ago when we barely knew each other because he was following you, and now he's KILLED somebody but you don't wanna inconvenience me? Like you said, he framed me for _murder_ , I think it's safe to say i've already been 'inconvenienced'. Oh, and I also don't give a damn if you don't like being 'fussed over', we're gonna do things my way until Mustang's unit finds Archer. If you don't like it, tough shit Rockbell. Get over it."

Winry's fearful eyes were swallowed by Edward's frustration as he watched a muscle work in her throat, and he was sure that his tirade had finally sealed the deal on an ass-kicking long overdue. But she surprised him yet again when she moved forward and threw her arms around him. That's when it occurred to him, of course she didn't like being the center of attention; her life as an automail engineer made her a strong person who took care of others. The concept of needing help herself would feel strange to her and when given time to consider her options she wouldn't weigh them rationally. The only times he'd seen her react appropriately to Archer's antics was in fight-or-flight situations where she was taken by surprise, and Ed's anxiety softened as his arms came around her, knowing that she trusted him enough to be afraid in front of him, enough to share her biggest secret, to let him be her protector. There was only one detail nagging at the back of Edward's mind that he knew he'd eventually have to tell Winry, but it would wait.

It would probably break her trust in him once she found out.

* * *

"So yea, basically I start school in the spring and my schedule will be insane, so I figured lemme do this now before May rolls around and I won't have time anymore. Any advice for me when I go?"

Ed's client had just turned 19 and was heading to Princeton's pre-med program with dreams of becoming a surgeon. Edward knew his family a little, having tattooed his father twice, and he buffed the tattoo machine in the same area several times to shade the area darker and sat back.

"Yea, stay away from women. They complicate everything." He swiped away some excess ink and blood with a damp paper towel and resumed.

"Sounds like you've got some experience there." The kid chuckled.

"You've got no idea."

Envy shuffled over after leaving the kitchen. "I'm heading out for lunch. Going to Shake Shack."

Edward looked to the front window at the dustings of white that covered everything and the snow that continuously fell. "You're going out in that?"

"The lines are shortest in shitty weather."

"True, I'm all set but thanks. Do me a favor though, check my phone."

Envy reached for Ed's phone on the opposite table and glanced at it before setting it down again. "Nothing. If you want I'll have Sheska reach out to check on things."

"Thanks Ve."

Ed had received a warm and shocked welcome from his staff when he'd arrived home, and spent the first half hour answering questions about how he'd been released from prison. Jean, Greed, Sheska, and Envy were leveled when Ed finally told them about Winry's history with Archer and how she'd gone to see him alone to get the information needed to prove Ed's innocence. The matter had officially become personal for all of them, and they were now looking out for Winry just as much as Ed, because she had risked it all to save one of their own.

When Edward's client was finished and left it was 6 pm and Edward sat down to call Winry, but she didn't answer her phone so he Googled the shop number.

*Garfiel Automail…Paninya speaking.*

"Hi Paninya, it's Ed …Winry's friend. Is she around?"

*…Ed?… Oh! You're her tattoo artist right? The one with all the nerve damage?*

Edward gave a stiff nod at the painful memory. "That's me."

*I remember you, yea she's here. She's in the middle of a port surgery right now so she can't talk, want me to give her a message?* Paninya handed the change to a customer she'd rung up for a small can of oil and waved goodbye as they left.

"Just let her know I called to check in. Have things been quiet over there?"

A patient screamed in pain from the surgery room and Paninya smiled a little. *I don't know about quiet, but average. It's an automail garage, noise is normal.*

"I was planning on picking her up from work tonight just to make sure she gets home okay."

Pannier fell quiet for a moment

*That's really sweet of you, Ed. You're a good guy for being so nice to her. It's been a long time since someone treated Winry right.*

"So you know about Archer?" He asked.

*Know about it? I was practically there. I was her emergency contact, I arrived at the ER before anyone else. She's never been the same since Frank tried to kill her and… and I just want her to smile the way she used to. She's almost there, you know. When you gave her that tattoo I saw the old Winry for the first time in years.*

Edward heard Paninya's voice tighten on the phone, and it squeezed something in his chest.

*She told me that you don't draw flowers for people, but thank you for doing it for her.* She said. Edward swallowed a lump in his throat and breathed.

"I care about her. She's become really important to me."

*Can you protect her?* Paninya whispered, suddenly worried Winry might hear. *Can you keep Winry safe?*

Edward's metal fist closed and he remembered the secret he still kept from Winry, how far he was willing to go to protect her.

"I won't let anything happen to her. I swear it."

* * *

10 o'clock and the snow had stopped falling. Barely four inches had collected on every surface —enough to make footprints and slippery surfaces but not enough to deter any motivated New Yorker. The city streets were already plowed, the sidewalks already shoveled, life resumed. Winry had just finished putting away the last of her tools and closing the garage, she was in the store front wiping down surfaces and was preparing to lock the front door when it opened and a customer stepped in.

"H-Hi." He stuttered. "You c-closed?"

He was a smaller build —taller than Winry but not by much— and his frame wasn't very meaty. He shook a little where he stood.

"Not quite," Winry answered. "Soon though, can I help you?"

The man looked around, seemingly unsure of what to say. His large green eyes wandered the counter top and wall-mounted shelves behind her and he pushed his hands further into his pockets.

"It's cold out there, huh?" Winry asked, seeing the way he stood shivering with hunched shoulders. The many looked at her only for a second before glancing away from her soft smile.

"Yep, pretty frigid out. I uh… I was hoping to get some information about automail. My… my sister just lost an arm. Bacterial infection."

Winry let out the anxious breath she'd been holding. Of course he was shaky and nervous, he'd just watched his sister go through the trauma of losing a limb, and it wasn't unusual for people to feel strange coming into automail garages for the first time. Especially with the controversy over weapon-modification in artificial limbs.

"Of course." Winry said, "Don't be nervous, I can give you all the info you need. My name is Winry and I'd be happy to guide you and your sister through the process. And don't worry, I don't put weapons in any of my client's limbs, I'm against that sort of thing."

The man smiled stiffly.

Winry turned to go to a cabinet behind her. "Lemme grab you some pamphlets, you can take them home to show your sister—"

A cold, clammy hand was gripped over her mouth and Winry felt the tip of a gun barrel press against her temple as she was dragged back against a body. It was the nervous man's.

"Don't scream. Do everything I say, or you die."

Across town Edward's phone chimed with a message from Winry:

[I'm stuck at work late, don't worry about coming to get me. Garfiel is here, he's gonna drive me home tonight.]

Cold, shaking fingers were helpless in her attempt to keep her phone as Winry was forced out the back door and into the snowy alley behind the garage. The man had ripped the phone from her grasp and smashed it against the back of the building, obliterating it to crushed pieces that lay in the snow.

"Walk to the end of the alley." He ordered, gun still pointed at her. A single street light provided low illumination for the alley before it opened up into the darkness of the abandoned lot next door. It was far enough from the surrounding closed businesses that her screams wouldn't be heard if she'd tried, dark and set back far enough from the street that no passing cars would likely notice a struggle. Winry was helpless, shivering in her jumpsuit and boots, thinking only of Edward and how right he was to want to stay by her side.

"I'm so sorry."

A broken voice interrupted her thoughts, and Winry turned slowly to face the man who now stood crying.

"I'm so sorry… he forced me to… he said he'd kill me… please forgive m—"

A steel hand vice-gripped the man's throat, cutting off his words with a sickening gurgle before fingers closed together and crunched the bones beneath. The man slackened, the gun fell, and his body was tossed aside.

Winry's knees gave out and she sank to the ground, her heart in her throat as she sat helplessly, frozen with fear as a single red light pierced the darkness and a shadowy figure moved, revealing Frank Archer.

But it wasn't him, not how he used to be. He'd been split in two, one half of him organic, the other half cyborg —completely automail. Fear paralyzed Winry as he moved closer, his movements unnatural and loud like the whirring of mechanisms. Archer's limbs were far from humanlike; the joints bolstered doubly, his shoulder extending farther than it should while his elbow hanged far lower than average. His hip and knee more of the same. His elbow extended out behind him by nearly three feet in length with steel piping; something Winry could only expect to be a gun of some kind that he could interchange his hand for. Such a skeletal frame could only be needed for something such as scaling large structures easily; it would explain how he got around unseen if he was climbing up and down the backs of buildings. He took another step, and another, until he stood not an arms length from her and simply gazed down at her sitting in the snow.

"…Frank…" She shook. "…What… What happened?…"

He gazed at her longingly, one dark eye full of sadness and regret, the other a bright red light behind a clear lense, piercing the darkness and gleaming off the steel surrounding it. He said nothing, and slowly opened his mouth.

A gun barrel met Winry's vision before he slowly sealed it away again. It was then very obvious why he did not speak, and hadn't spoken to her the entire time he'd be following her. He'd outfitted not only his outside but his innards with weaponry, and it made Winry's stomach turn horribly. In all her years, she'd never seen anything so terrifying.

Until his flesh arm revealed from behind his back, the missing evidence from all those years ago. The photos he'd taken of her bleeding on his apartment floor, the photos he'd taken of her screaming on the phone for help.

—A sound pierced the night, the sharpening of a blade. Automail raised to meet the low light and she was faced with it yet again. Attached to his arm was the knife he'd used.

He had every intention of using it again.

Rushing blood roared in her ears, her lungs squeezing painfully, and Winry screamed.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for being patient and staying with me. I'm trying my best to push through my busy schedule, and even if it means I can't update as frequently, I won't be uploading work I'm not proud of. My favorite chapter is up next, see you guys soon.


	20. Chapter 20

If loving you

kills me tonight…

then I was ready

for death the

moment you

said hello…

r.m. drake

* * *

The loftspace above Alchemy was always quiet, even more so on nights when snow fell. Winter nights had a way of quieting the city noise, but it had been a long time since Ed's living quarters had felt so isolated. He sat at his drawing table scrawling aimlessly to pass the time, waiting for Winry's arrival. Upon receiving her text about being stuck at work, he instead inquired about her having Garfiel drive her to Alchemy. Anxiety settled in as he waited for her answer. His automail leg bounced nervously as he looked at the clock. 6 minutes since her text.

"Don't be paranoid." He muttered to himself, and swallowed another mouthful of scotch in efforts to remain calm. His mindless sketching had turned into chrysanthemums, and then to irises, and then to peonies. Big blooming ones, like what he'd put on Winry's back. His mind fell to her for the millionth time that night, how anxious he was to have her safe in his arms. He took another sip, and thought of her strong hands and how he wanted to feel them smooth over him. How he wanted to kiss every inch of her body, how he'd imaged himself looking down at his work on her back as he worshipped her until they both collapsed.

He looked at the clock again and sighed. 12 minutes since her text. Edward stood and began to pace slowly, stretching his arms above him and rolling his left shoulder to loosen up, trying to keep himself occupied. It wasn't until a single sheet of tracing paper slid off the edge of his desk and swayed to the floor, coming to a stop in front of him. Winry's pretty face in grey pencil met him, and as he stooped to retrieve it he heard another paper slide away and sail to the floor. He scooped up the second drawing and turned to shut the open window, only to halt in his tracks —the window had been closed all along.

Something crept along his spine, a feeling he quickly shook away as he remembered what gravity was, and he turned to sit at his desk again when he watched another drawing shimmy itself off the edge of his desk and glide to the floor, settling at his feet. It was full of flowers, and etchings of blue eyes. He'd been drinking too much, his paranoid mind was playing tricks on him.

"… _flowers…"_

Edward snapped around, eyes searching for the voice he'd so clearly heard, but found nothing. His breath quickened and his brow furrowed.

"Now I KNOW I drank too much tonight." He strode forward and snatched the bottle off his desk, corking it and stowing it away. He looked at the clock again. 15 minutes since her text, and a wave a nausea passed through him.

"… _magic flowers…"_

He stilled, eyes searching again but still finding nothing.

"No…not tonight.." He sighed to the empty room, very sure each time he'd heard that little voice is was because he was going mad. "…I can't do this tonight—"

The window shot open. It burst forth a blustering wind that sent the many papers off his desk and into the air, before they floated down around him and sailed to the floorboards. The window was old, stiff, and took a good portion of strength to wrench upwards, yet Edward witnessed it slam open angrily as though it were brand new. Despite the obviously emptiness of the room, Ed was made acutely aware that he was no longer alone as he looked around for the physical embodiment of the presence he felt.

He found nothing.

Deep breathing proved futile in its efforts to slow Edward's heart rate, and it wasn't until he started scooping up the various papers that it hit him —each page had Winry on it. Some were full sketchings of her face, while others were pages littered with flowers, constellations, and her blue eyes. Others bore her hands, or her name, or simply an artful 'W' with climbing ivy curling around it. Edward used to avoid drawing flowers or plants of any kind —now he drew them absentmindedly while thinking of the woman who brought his heart to a place he thought he could never reach again.

"… _GO…"_

-Edward gasped and whirled around, a bead of cold sweat rolled down his neck and crushing guilt weighed his chest down, for he knew with great certainty who was in the room. His sadness would vanish when the message hit home; sorrow shifted to panic as he looked at the sketch of Winry's eyes, his own gaze finding the clock again as the paper slipped from his hand.

He ran.

* * *

Winry's back was flat to a brick wall. Freedom was the street not 40 feet from her, but her path to it blocked by the source of her nightmares. Archer had delighted in his game of cat and mouse, advancing on her and watching the terror grow in her eyes before easing back enough for her to dart away before his sheer size would block her way again with only a step or two. The large knife and all the history it possessed was the perfect toy to keep her afraid, just how he liked her to be —meek and under his control. He hadn't forgotten however, that he was there to teach her a lesson. His free hand grabbed her upper arm and with seemingly minimal strength threw her halfway across the vacant lot where she crashed to the blacktop and remained motionless, the snow though small in amount still bit at her skin with its frigidity. Minutes stretched on forever as she rose to her feet, shaking and disoriented. Her feet barely planted before he was suddenly in front of her again, his hand around her throat as he slammed her against the bricks once more, her feet dangled as she tried desperately to free herself. A glint of light beamed in his human eye; Archer was loving this. His hand released Winry and she dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping for air and unable to scream for help, her lack of a voice worsened with the heavy blow to her stomach his kick gave. The air rushed out of her and she rolled again —something in her pocket pressed into her thigh, and her mind sparked.

—A crash sounded from the alley; something solid colliding with a metal garbage can. It was enough to pull Archer's attention away from Winry as he moved to investigate —making sure they wouldn't be disturbed. Winry seized her moment and pushed away the aching in her ribs as she crept to her feet. She slid her hand into her pocket and nearly cried with happiness when her numb fingers pulled out a small tracking device; Mustang gave her one at the precinct and instructed her to keep it on. She pressed the button and slid the tracker back home, praying the signal would hold up despite the falling snow.

A loud clang sounded from the far corner of the lot, something metal ricocheted off the wall and crashed to the ground. Glancing over her shoulder to be sure it wasn't Archer who'd thrown it, Winry scurried over and halted at the sight of a large iron wrench. It was as long as her forearm, heavy, and one of her favorites. She snatched up her weapon just in time for a blow to the back of her head to send her to the ground once more. Down but not out, she felt a heavy hand press against her back and her mind rocketed to that horrible night as she screamed louder than she thought possible. Her jumpsuit was torn down from her back and then Archer stopped —taking in the sight of flowers where scars used to be. The anger pulsing in him was suddenly new —something unbearable— and he swore he would destroy the man who'd erased the markings on his property.

But first he would put them back.

Archer pressed the blade to Winry's back as she screamed, the tears pouring down and her heart shattering from fear.

—His weight was gone; the pressure of his immense form lifted from her back and a loud thud vibrated the snowy cement beneath her. Her eyes shot open to find a dark figure had wrestled Archer to the ground only a few feet away, but the figure would be tossed aside as she had been earlier, and Archer moved to stand again. She sat up and backed away, clutching her torn jumpsuit to her as panic set in again. The sharpness of metal unsheathing rang out through the darkness and Winry knew her fate was sealed —until the dark figure leapt onto Archer's back and drove something deep into the black webbing under his automail shoulder, in the space where automail joints and wiring are hidden from the elements. A loud grunt and a sharp jerk, and sparks cut through the blackness as they shot out from under Archer's arm. Archer twisted and flailed, attempting to shake loose his attacker to no avail, and he was delivered another blow to the wiring under his shoulder; whoever was attacking Archer knew enough about automail to know how to shut it down. The figure sprang off Archer's back, flipping backward to land on his feet as the force of his kick-off sent Archer crashing to the ground. All was quiet for only a moment before Archer was on his feet again. But rather than charge his attacker, his focus forever remained on Winry.

The figure suddenly appeared between them in a defensive crouch and Winry sat in shock, unable to form words when the faint light from the alley revealed her savior —and what her savior had done to her work.

"Where's his off switch?" Edward asked, slowly crouching lower as he prepared for Archer to strike. She'd had a hard time seeing Ed due to his usual black clothing, and the distant street lights hadn't gleamed off his metal arm because a wide and flat blade covered the top of his forearm and extended to a vicious point nearly a foot beyond his fist. The blade was black.

Winry snapped to. "What did you do to your arm?!"

"—His fucking off switch Winry, the thing that deports his arm! Where is it?!"

"—I don't know, I've never seen anything like—"

Archer dove forward —Edward sprang at him and sent his black blade into base of Archer's neck. It cracked the steel easily and one swipe was all it took for Edward to pull the wiring, earning more sparks. Every severed wire slowed Archer more and more, and while Archer's size and strength would normally give him the upper hand, he lacked a full range of motion. He was no match for Edward's speed and agility. Archer lashed out, the knife connected to his arm finding purchase on Edward's bicep as it sliced through his shirt —a flesh wound that drew blood but didn't slow Edward down as he stalked around Archer's faltering, short-circuiting body. Winry had done her best to try to locate the killswitch —the one spot on an automailer that would forcefully export a limb from its dock without the use of tools that normally took limbs off easily and painlessly. Killswitches were used in times of emergency only, because they expelled the limb off the body and would fracture the port in the process. It was a similar concept to wolves who would chew off their own foot to escape a bear trap. But they were cleverly concealed and not always in the same place, and as Winry watched Edward gracefully dodge Archer's punches and kicks, she also examined what she could of Archer and wondered, if half a person's body is automail including torso, neck, and head, they couldn't possibly have a killswitch, could they?

"Edward!" Realization struck her and jumped to her feet —the torn remains of her jumpsuit fell to settle around her waist, exposing her chest. "He doesn't have a killswitch!"

When Ed's gaze transfixed on her Archer landed a blow to Edward's head that sent him to the ground rendering him motionless, and Archer advanced on Winry with the intent to end it all.

A new rage set in, Winry was done. She raced forward, gripped her wrench and sent a clang ringing loud into the night as she connected with Archer's skull. She hit him again, and again, and when she changed position and landed a blow to his organic skull only then did he drop to the ground and stay there.

She stood panting, unsure if he was alive or dead and her wrench slipped from her freezing fingers. Time slowed and the city was silent, her mind unable to catch up before Edward's black jacket was wrapped around her and she was whisked away towards the street and into a cab.

* * *

Hymens Braeda studied the detailed map on his phone, shouting directions as Mustang drove. They'd followed the tracer for several minutes —not speeding quite as much as they'd be under normal weather conditions— when suddenly the signal stopped.

"Where'd it go?! The signal is gone, both of them."

"You sure it's not shorting out due to the weather?" Roy asked as they idled on a quiet street.

"Not sure, although the wifi signal is still going strong. Our pinpoint is still here, but both Winry's and Ed's just went off the map, —that was smart thinking, by the way."

Braeda was referring to Roy's idea of giving Winry a tracking device and also giving Ed one to switch on if they crossed paths with Archer. Mustang dialed Ed and put it on speaker, he answered on the second ring.

*We're okay.* Ed panted still shaking off the effects of adrenaline. *We're heading back to my place, he's in an abandoned lot next to Garfiel's.*

"Do you need an ambulance?" Roy asked, and Edward knew it wasn't in reference to him. His eyes slid towards Winry, who was glaring at him as though he were Archer himself. Edward gulped.

*…Uh…remains to be seen…*

"What?"

*Nothing, we'll be ok I swear. We just need to get inside and calm down.*

The cab slowed to as stop outside Alchemy and Winry didn't wait for Ed as she got out and climbed the steps to the door.

"Do me a favor and turn your trackers back on. It'll put my mind at ease."

*Will do, I'll call you tomorrow.* Ed muttered as the cab drove off. He unlocked the front doors and ascended the staircase with an all-too-quiet Winry next to him. He could feel the storm brewing, anger bubbling under her exterior, and when he'd opened Alchemy's door to usher her inside was when the rain came down.

"You altered your arm! You LIED to me!"

Her tears threatened to fall but Edward stood his ground. He would not be made to feel sorry for this, even as she stood there quaking from fear and anger, clutching his black jacket over her shoulders and pushing wet, snowy hair from her eyes. She was shivering —exhausted and melting down— but Ed would not falter. His eyes fell to the fresh stomach bruises peeking out from under the jacket. She wouldn't admit it, but she needed someone to be strong for her because her body had been strong for too long.

"I never meant to hurt you." He said as he closed the door behind him. The light from the street lamps gleamed off a portion of his arm, the silvery beams halting at the edge of obsidian abyss on his forearm. Winry stared at it and her expression crumbled.

"You— you saw another engineer behind my back! You've been outfitted for a weapon!"

"You never would've agreed, so I did it anyway. I did it for you."

Winry's angry retort died on her tongue as she gazed at him, his face serious and unwavering, but not angry. His head throbbed where he'd been struck and his arm shouted in protest even though it had stopped bleeding.

"Why aren't you yelling back?" She asked. Edward reached for her and she stepped back, pushing her arms through his jacket sleeves and pacing frantically, letting the jacket hang open. "Fight back Edward!"

"I'm not gonna fight with you about this." He said solumnly, watching her unravel from lack of control. His eyes once again fell to the bruising on her exposed skin and wondering how much physical pain she was trying to hide. "You need to stop trying to be so strong."

"Fuck you!" She cried. "Don't tell me what I need! You don't get to do that! You lied to me!"

"I watched him press a knife against your back. Your screams were the things I heard at war, the things I hear when I sleep. I almost lost you tonight, and if I hadn't gotten this blade, I wouldn't have been able to save you. I did this to keep you safe."

"WHY?! Look at what you've gone through! I'm not worth the trouble! Why the fuck would you make all this effort to save me?!"

Edward snatched her arm as she moved to leave and spun her to meet his glare. He felt the answer bubbling on his tongue, squeezing his throat as it ached to spring forward. He shoved it down when his hands dove into her wet hair and he kissed her. She paused only for a moment before exhaustion slackened her and she felt her knees give out, but she was supported in her careful decent to the rug. Ed looked her over.

"I should take you to the hospital, you're pretty banged up." He'd felt the energy leave her body and it spiked fear in him when she went lax in his arms. She shook her head in protest, touching his face to bring his eyes to hers. She silently pleaded to stay. Her body may have been weak, but her mind roared with unabashed demand as she curled the fabric of his shirt in her fist and pulled him over her. She kissed him, feeling the weight of him pressing her into the floor and suddenly her fears and anxieties, her aches and pains, were all gone. She felt nothing besides his chest against hers, her fingers laced with his, their mouths asking more of one another than ever before. Winry knew that when it came to her, Edward treaded lightly. It was with this knowledge that her hand found the hem of his shirt and lifted it, silently urging him to cast it off which he did quickly before reclaiming her mouth. From then on there would be no second-guessing from either of them.

* * *

Mustang and Braeda ignored the bitter chill as they surveyed the abandoned lot near Garfield's. Snowy winter nights had a way of quieting even the busiest of neighborhoods, and a fresh coat of white on the ground served to cover up a lot of evidence. They'd been there for not even an hour, and quickly deduced that while the uneven levels of snow showed signs of people there and a possible struggle, they could collect no solid proof in the current weather. It was with a dejected shake of his head that Roy followed Hymens back toward their street-parked cruiser, only to halt in his tracks when he looked across the street to the bodega gleaming brightly in the dark night and the convenience store clerk who stood out front smoking a cigarette and watching them intently. Mustang caught Braeda's attention discreetly and motioned him to follow suit as they crossed Houston st and approached the bodega clerk.

"You guys find anything?" The clerk asked upon their arrival, not bothering to wait for them to produce badges or even introduce themselves.

"What did you see?" Roy speculated. The clerk extinguished the cigarette in the snow and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. He was in his early 20s, of Middle Eastern decent but Roy could tell he was a born citizen —his brooklyn accent made it evident.

"I saw a monster." The clerk said. Roy and Braeda exchanged glances. "Yo I know it sounds crazy, but thats what I seen, I swear."

"Can you elaborate?" Braeda entertained.

"I people-watch a lot, you know? This corners kinda quiet at night. Anyways, I heard a commotion over there. Or maybe I didn't, I dunno, I heard shouts but its New York. Hard to know half the time if its actual trouble or just crazy people acting up. Whatever it was I wound up looking across to that lot, can't see much over there at night, but theres a little bit of light towards the back. I saw a guy and a girl come running outta there —he was kinda half carrying her, I hope she was okay. They flagged down a cab and got away, but a few seconds after they drove off I saw the monster. This guy, but he wasn't a guy he was like a half-metal guy, he was shooting sparks and walking funny. He looked down Houston, I guess he was looking to see where their cab went, and then he disappeared back into the lot again."

"Did you call for help?" Roy asked.

"I thought about it when I seen the guy and girl run out, —they both looked like something was wrong. But then that thing showed up and it scared the shit outta me. I know I sound nuts, I didn't think anyone would believe me if I called."

Roy and Hymens weren't sold on the story of the monster, but before leaving Roy asked, "The guy and girl, did you see what they looked like?"

The clerk scratched the back of his head as he tried to recall. "Well I couldn't see real good with all this snow, but they were both white with blonde hair. Oh and someone had a ponytail, but you know what I think it was the guy."

The hairs on the back of Roy's neck stood on end. "Did he have a metal arm?"

"Hm? Oh well, they both did. Not the girl, but the guy did, and so did the monster."

Braeda quickly handed the clerk a card with their info, asking to please be updated with anything new and letting the clerk know they'd likely need a copy of his stores street footage from the security camera. He and Roy strode out quickly as Roy dialed Ed but received no answer.

"This is too insane," Braeda said. "If it really was Archer after them, then when the hell did he get automail and why would the clerk describe him as a monster instead of just a guy with a metal arm?" They slid into the cruiser and drove off back to the precinct.

"I have no idea," Roy answered. "But it's time to do some digging into what happened during Archer's time in prison."

* * *

Wooster Street was silent, but the voices in Archer's head screamed louder and louder at him to abandon his original plan in light of new developments. Action needed to be taken. It wasn't about the fight with the Artist. It wasn't about getting so close to slicing that beautiful skin again. It wasn't even about taking back what was rightfully his. The game had changed, he would involve no one else, he would abandon his last remaining loyalist at the precinct. His final act would be his and his alone.

He stood in the shadows of the alley between buildings and gazed up at Alchemy's window, fixated on Winry and Ed as yellow street lights illuminated a desperate, naked tangle of sweaty skin, swollen mouths, wild hair. He watched the Artist crawl over her, kissing her body, working his way up to bury his face in her neck. He pumped into her carefully again and again, her sweet mouth opening in ecstacy. Archer resolved that if he could not have her, no one would.

She would burn for this.

* * *

"Daddy, I don't feel well. Will you draw me magic flowers?"

It was such a simple and innocent request, one that she asked often on the days she was home sick from pre-school. The doctors were still searching for the source of her on-going fatigue and her unstable blood sugar; blood tests had come back normal for everything and her painful visit to the allergist produced no results beyond typical dust and mold allergies. So until they could pinpoint the source, Edward would keep Nina as comfortable as he could. Drawing was their favorite pastime, and the day Edward decided to draw flowers for Nina was the first time something had a profound impact on her health. The flowers made her happy —she felt better. Doctors and psychiatrists could attribute it to nothing more than simple happiness brightening her heart when she was feeling exhausted or nauseous. It didn't make much sense, but it helped heal Nina on her more difficult days, and so Edward swore he would always be there to draw Nina's 'magic healing flowers'.

After recovering from his automail surgery Edward was sent home to see his daughter and begin the process of divorcing Noah. Edward spent as much time as he could with his little girl, knowing it wouldn't be long before he had to go back to war. They would take walks through the woods near their home so she could look for wild rabbits, he would braid her brown hair into two long tails for her, and when she wasn't well he would spend the day in bed with her surrounded in colored pencils and pads of paper and they would draw until she fell asleep. It was his pen and pencil sketches of flowers that always brought the biggest smile to her face and brightened her chocolatey eyes like nothing else.

"I have a gift for you," He told her one day as they sat on her bed amongst the pink pillows of satin, drawing rocket ships in outer space, princesses with frogs, fire-breathing dragons. He would be leaving the next day for his second tour in Afghanistan, and produced a flat parcel wrapped in the sparkliest, most absurd paper Edward could find for his tutu-wearing, tiara-toting, flower crown-making girly girl. When she got past the beauty of the wrapping paper her face gleamed even more for what the paper concealed.

A book. A sizable coffee table style book that covered her little lap and legs as she held it. The hardcover book was white with a blank cover and white pages, but as Nina opened it and carefully turned each page she found the large prints of her father's drawings. Page after page, flowers of every kind; some were old favorites and others were new ones she'd never seen before, each one with its proper name written below in careful calligraphy. When she reached the back of the book she was met with a message on the inside back cover.

 _So you'll always have magic flowers._

 _I love you._

 _-Daddy_

That memory was his most cherished and yet the most painful to endure, for it was the last time he would ever see his little Nina. Even worse was when Noah had confessed that she'd sold the book to fund her drug problem after her parents cut her off. It was a complicated mixture of anguish and relief, for everything in the house was lost to the fire. He had nothing of his daughter, and while he was enraged to know that her mother had sold Nina's Magic Flowers, the tiniest speck of light shined in him; it was a reminder that a piece of his daughter's life still existed somewhere. Edward and Alphonse scoured the city for any leads, desperate to find the book. But when the dealer Noah had sold it too turned up dead, gone was any hope they had of finding the book. As years passed, he'd mostly given up on finding it, but any time he passed a used book store in the city, a tragic pull in his chest would force him inside to comb through the shelves in search of the modest, white book.

Finding it in Winry's automail garage was the last place on earth he would've expected, and it made him wonder about things like fate or God's design, or chance and dumb luck. What was real? He'd known that Nina had never left him, and that continued to torture him everyday —wondering if she'd passed onto heaven or the next life, if such things even existed. Or were we all doomed to wander earth for eternity after we died? Was his little girl doomed to watch her father suffer more and more each day? Edward had gut feelings, but they were different after losing Nina. Those gut feelings and unexplainable urges to act manifested themselves as a tiny voice. Her tiny voice in his head, and he wondered for the first year if he could be going mad with grief. Nina was gone, so how could he be hearing her voice? It seemed so impossible, but Ed could clearly hear her saying _'Daddy, no.'_ when he'd reach for his gun with the consideration of ending it all. But never before did the little voice chime to him so much than when he'd first spoke to Winry on the phone, and answered yes to her question if tattoos could cover scars. Winry asked him for flowers, and he nearly gave her to another artist but was stopped when, for the first time in months, a tiny voice in his head chirped _'Magic flowers!'_

Edward lay awake in bed in the loft, thumbing through the pages of Nina's book with Winry curled against his side. Finally having her was everything he'd dreamed it could be, he was steady and mindful of their wounds, but it was the perfect opportunity to softly stroke every inch of her, to curl his hand around her soft rear as he pushed into her and savored her gasps and sighs. He'd recalled every moment he craved her, from the first moment he saw her and took in pouty lips and nervous eyes, to her dangerously lowering zipper on her jumpsuit when she examined his arm. The night of the storm in her apartment he was sure he would have her —he'd sat there wet and nearly naked and she was soft from wine and in need of comforting. When he'd finally kissed her, really kissed her properly, the way he'd always imagined doing so, he swore he could've died when they were wrenched apart by the commotion in the studio. Now that he'd finally had every part of her, an anxiousness in him quieted at long last. He'd scooped her off the floor and climbed the stairs to the loft where he'd laid her on the mattress and let himself melt into her —releasing his exhaustion like a breath he'd been holding for months, and then it happened. She'd gently pushed him back but entwined her fingers with his as she turned to lay on her taught belly, and he kissed the scars under her tattoo and worked his way up her back as he sank into her again, groaning in satisfaction at getting what he'd secretly wanted. Her, with him, moaning in the throes of pleasure that he gave her as he looked down on his artwork on her body. She'd whimpered when he touched her back, and asked with a gasp as he pushed into her again and again if he could see her scars. His hand squeezed her hip as he moved, and he crawled over her, pressing a kiss just below her ear. He wouldn't lie to her, and groaned low into her ear that she was beautiful, that she always had been.

"I wanted to tell you about my arm." Edward said to Winry as she watched him turn the pages of Nina's book, "Every day I thought of how I might bring it up, but it had to be the right time and the right setting, and things haven't exactly been easy."

He'd told her everything, about Nina, about the voice, the book, everything. Now that she knew the complete truth, Winry understood why he'd weaponized him arm without telling her.

She nodded against him and he set Nina's book aside before curling a warm arm around her. Winry looked up at him.

"I'm surprised that blade did so much damage to Archer. Is it carbon coated?"

Ed nodded. "It unsheathes from under a plate on my forearm, it responds to a fingerprint scanner beneath the loose edge of the plate on my collarbone."

A small angry spark still lived in Winry, but it was subsiding the more she realized just what lengths this strange and tortured man had gone to in order to keep her safe. She still found herself asking why, and then the pieces fell together and she pushed herself up on an elbow to look over him. She made a bold move.

"Nina's death wasn't your fault." She said. Edward lay immobilized, his sharp eyes glaring into her.

"You can't feel so responsible. You did everything you could." She elaborated. "I know you're desperate to protect me because you want to make up for not being able to help Nina, but that wasn't your fault."

His throat tightened and his eyes went glassy; Winry had struck a nerve. Suddenly her hands held his face carefully, cradling him in a way she never had before but that he'd realized he'd always wanted. An intimacy he hadn't known in years, for the only ones who touch our faces are our mothers and fathers, our children, our lovers. She kissed him to calm him.

"What did she look like?" She asked. The corner of Ed's mouth tipped up and he sat up and reached over to a stack of books on the floor. He pulled one from the pile and from under it's cover cam photograph.

"She was all smiles, all the time. Even when she was sick she always found a smile for me when I'd draw with her."

She was pure joy in a single image, with her long brown braids trailing on the floor around her as she lay coloring —a candid shot of her happiest of moments, captured by her father. She was peaceful and content in her practice, seemingly unaware of being watched, fully focused on the task at hand and clearly loving it. Winry was lost for words but Edward thankfully filled the silence as he placed the photo inside Nina's book and set it aside. Winry watched him with quiet awe, marveling at how he was able to go on with life despite what he'd been through. She'd memorized his every stunning detail while waiting for him to wake after his nerve reattachment. He was sharp eyes and high cheekbones and a sculpted, firm mouth to go with every other perfectly sculpted part of his body. His flowing hair stood in juxtaposition to his strength; long, soft, shiny, but wild as the spirit of the man himself. His beautiful tattoos adorning his body like paint on a warrior, Winry ran her fingers over them softly. Every aspect of him was strong and yet here he was, rendering himself vulnerable, sharing his deepest despair with her.

"That was all I had left of her until I saw that book in your workshop. How did you wind up with it?" He asked.

Winry swallowed and clutched the sheet to her chest, the answer was almost cruel in it's irony.

"Archer gave it to me. Years ago, he brought it home from Strand. It was in their sidewalk sale."

Ed sat staring, eyes wide and almost glazing over as the memories flooded him. He'd spent countless days returning to that storefront time and time again, hoping the book would be there. He'd scoured the carts meticulously, and always wondered why he couldn't even have so much as Nina's book —why he'd had to lose everything. His focus came back to Winry, who watched him cautiously with shining, sad eyes.

"Do you believe in fate?" She asked.

"It's been years since I've had faith in anything," He said, "but I'm having a hard time chocking all this up to mere coincidence. I was obsessed with finding that book. For years it was my greatest priority, and it was only this year that I'd finally given up the search. It was killing me."

Winry knit her brow in response and he elaborated, "The disappointment became harder and harder. I finally woke up one day and realized that life is unfair and cruel, and that I would have to make due the best I can, just like I had to as a kid."

Delicate fingers softly swept away an errant lock of golden hair threatening to fall in his eyes, and as he turned Winry was suspended by his intense gaze. Metal fingers ran through her hair and his eyes searched hers.

"What has our suffering been for all this time?"

They said nothing as his forehead came to rest on hers and their eyes closed, losing themselves in the sound of each others breathing, the feel of the others skin under their palms, loose hair sliding through fingers. Beating hearts roared in their ears and they drew closer, mouths barely skimming eachother before Winry stilled.

"Do you regret this?" She asked fearfully.

"Not at all." He replied. "You?"

"No."

He claimed her mouth again, and relished in the sounds she made. Music to his ears was her gasping and crying his name, her heart beat double time at his hot breath on her neck, her hearing the the beautiful things he rasped into her ears.

They did not hear the firebomb shatter through the studio window.

* * *

A/N: I didn't forget you, not for a second. I'm not done here. I'm coming back with more.


	21. Chapter 21 (Finale)

I walked a mile with Pleasure;  
She chatted all the way,  
But left me none the wiser  
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,  
And ne'er a word said she;  
But, oh! The things I learned from her,  
When Sorrow walked with me.

-Robert Browning Hamilton

* * *

His eyes burned. His lungs convulsed as he coughed again and again, his screams of protest cut off as he fought to get past the people holding him in place, but his exhausted body failed him. Scorching flames pierced the darkness of the night sky, brilliantly illuminating the normally quiet cobblestoned streets of Soho, now a place full of spectators and frightened residents, fearful for the state of their homes and businesses. Edward didn't care about his home, he no longer cared about Alchemy, but the tears in his eyes that would seem for obvious reasons to an outsider were due to something far worse than the smoke in his eyes or the loss of his livelihood. Winry was still inside.

They'd brought each other to the stars for the second time that night before falling asleep in each others arms, exhausted and drunk on the one thing in their lives that felt good and right: being together. Edward awoke some hours later, sweating profusely and wondering why, given his state of undress and the mere 38 degrees it was outside. Winry stirred beside him and sat up, holding her hair off the back of her neck for the same reason.

"God its sweltering in here. Is something wrong with your heater?" She moaned softly, still waking up. Edward stood and moved to the door, stalling when his hand touched the metal knob; it was unusually warm. A tiny voice rang in his head.

"Get dressed." He said to Winry. He grabbed his black pants from the floor and pulled them on before pulling one of his large, long sleeve shirts from the closet and tossing it her way. "Now. Quickly."

"What's wrong?" Winry pulled on the shirt and found her underwear. She was about to ask if he had some sweats she could borrow since her jumpsuit was reduced to scrap material when Ed opened the attic door and descended the steps.

He swore loudly and Winry ran down after him. It was like walking into an oven.

* * *

Edward had kicked and screamed as time slowed down, clawing his way from the street back to the building but to no avail. The firefighters held him back and shouted at him to stop; that they would find her. Edward realized he was watching his life literally go up in flames for the second time. He would suffer the most unimaginable fate yet again. He would sooner die than let her burn in there alone, and he continued to fight against his restraints, almost winning until a third person jumped in and Edward felt strong arms grip around his torso before pulling him backward.

"ED STOP! There's no point!" Havoc screamed as he pulled his friend back before tackling him to the ground. Jean kneeled and grabbed Ed's shoulders in attempts to get through to the most distraught person he'd ever known. "You'll die in there! It's too late!"

Edward was having none of it, and slugged Havoc across the face with his right fist before scrambling to his feet, but before he could start running back toward the blaze he was brought back to the ground by Jean.

"Get the fuck off me, Havoc!"

"Stop! You'll only make it worse if you go back in there! You can't—"

Jeans words were drowned by a deafing blast, and they stopped, heads snapping up to look back at the burning building as the roof —the attic space where Edward had laid with Winry in his arms only minutes before— exploded in a ball of flames and splintered wood before his horrified eyes.

She was still inside.

* * *

The alley running behind the building was shared with another row of tenements, only spanning about 10 feet wide and while usually dark, was now bright ablaze from the fiery hell she'd escaped from. Smoke burned her throat, soot smudged her cheeks and she wouldn't have been surprised if some of her hair had burned; she had gotten what she'd turned back for and in her mind, it was worth the risk. Winry stood on the fire escape and clutched Nina's book to her chest; she couldn't let Edward lose the only piece of his daughter he still possessed, not after all he'd been through. Her thoughts were cut short by the immense roar from above and her head shot up to the sight of the roof exploding.

"Oh my god, Edward!" She screamed, having no idea if he'd made it out or not.

The studio was engulfed in flames, and she'd raced along with Ed toward the front door, trying not to inhale smoke as it burned her eyes and the heat nearly scorched her skin. They reached the door and barreled through it as a firefighter was coming up the stairs, and Winry suddenly stopped as her heart contracted in her chest. Without a word to Edward she spun on her heel and raced back up the steps and through the door, into the inferno again. She didn't see Edward turn to run after her, she didn't see the firefighter wrestling him out the door amidst Edward's shouts of protests, insisting he go back for her. Winry's only thought was of getting the book from upstairs. Fear sliced through her when the beams in the studio ceiling began collapsing behind her, blocking her ability to reach the front door. Her lungs burned as she breathed the blistering air, and ran back up to the loft before wrenching open the old window and climbing out. The 10 foot drop to the fire escape below sent spiking pain through her ankle, and would have stranded her if it were not for the supportive arm of Roy Mustang wrapping over her shoulders.

"We need to go!" He shouted over the noise of fire and sirens, and Winry climbed on his back so they could descend the fire escape to the ground before heading down the long ally and out to the street before the entire building came down. She was insanely lucky that Roy had the sense to come sprinting down the ally himself instead of waiting for a firefighter; he was already halfway up the fire escape when he saw her drop from the window. Without Mustang's help, Winry would have been trapped two flights up and left to either burn, or break her legs from jumping and then die from the building coming down on top of her.

"How did you know I was up there?" She yelled over the noise. Mustang looked back at her over his shoulder as he gripped under her knees and continued toward the street.

"Your tracer I gave you, it was turned back on a few hours ago and I saw online that it was still active a few minutes ago. I prayed that if the tracer survived the fire, maybe you might still be with it."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

"If I'd waited any longer to come find you we both might be. That explosion was likely caused by all the chemicals in the shop. We need to get out front and find Edward, his tracer was still active last time I checked."

Roy breathed heavy when they reached the ally's end and emerged onto the street. The area was a chaotic mess of civilians and the police who were trying to keep them out of the way while firefighters set to work to bring down the blaze before it destroyed the rest of the tenement buildings. Winry and Roy both scanned the area, looking frantically for Edward. It was his howls of anguish rising above the surrounding noise that sent Winry's heart surging through her chest.

* * *

"No! _NO!_ " Ed screamed. He made no attempt to hide his tears as he raked his hands into his hair. The blue eyes blurring and refocusing in his memory danced back and forth between that of Winry and of Nina until they were no longer any different. He would be sick if he weren't so stunned, and Havoc could do nothing but look on horrified -the pit of despair in his stomach only hollowing further as he watched the tears flow freely down Edward's face. The sobs would only be interrupted by Ed's deep-chested coughs -a telltale sign of the smoke he'd breathed in to match the black smears all over his sweating skin. Oxygen fought hard toward his lungs with only little success but Edward hardly cared —his mind lashing him over and over with the thoughts of her, how she screamed his name under the heat of his touches only to scream for him again as she lay burning alone —crushed under the weight of the fiery rubble. There would be no quelling his sobs, each forceful drag of air only fueling his next tortuous cry. Concerned voices of the EMTs went unnoticed as they asked questions to test his cognizance. He could only stare ahead, the roaring flames climbing higher to whip against the black sky and devastating everything in his life. His business gone, his home burned yet again, his every possession was reduced to ash as he hung his head and ignored the throbbing in his every muscle; the strain of fighting to get to her finally caught up to him and rendered Edward listless as he knelt in the glow of death before him. Havoc knelt next to him, waving away the EMTs for the moment. He didn't know what to do, and though he had never been a religious man, the only words that could rise from him were the Lord's Prayer that his mother had spoken to him as a child —for what could he say to alleviate his friend's suffering? Jean's knees met the concrete next to Edward and he squeezed his shoulder supportively, his own tears threatening to fall for the unimaginable suffering his friend had endured in life, and for the knowledge that after this, Ed likely would not live. Jean wasn't stupid —his optimism for Edward and Winry's budding romance was neither blind nor foolish, and his heart broke not only for the woman but for the happy future that had fallen just shy of Edward's reach for the second time in his life.

Ed's tears continued to stream as his hollowed gaze remained on the fire, and the weight of his truth crushed down on him. Jean bowed his head.

"…Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—"

"—I was afraid."

Ed's anger and misery found no hiding place in his voice —to powerful to be hidden by much of anything, not that Edward would try. He had no reason to hide how he felt anymore, and his conscience crippled him with this admission. Jean looked on, treading carefully.

"Ed?"

"I-I never…. I never said what I should have." Ed gasped, raking blackened fingers through stringy hair, streaking it with soot. "And now I never can."

Jean's heart plummeted again, for he had seen the signs.

"She never knew…" Ed ground out. "…because I couldn't admit it to myself! I was too goddamn stubborn!"

"Winry must've known." Jean pressed, his hope that Ed would listen to reason hung precariously, fully expecting to fall. "She had to have known how much you cared."

"That's not it!" Ed pushed through another sob as the front bricks of the building tumbled inward into the scorching hell. His burning eyes swam, obscuring any detail into a blurred abyss of light and dark before him. His heavy breathing shook, his tears spilled again, and he looked at Jean.

"…I never told her how much I love her."

Jean knew then that his friend would never live past this, wether it be loss of mind or death by his own hand, Edward had finally started to heal and had given his guarded heart only to have his love destroyed by fate's cruel clutches yet again. Edward's head fell in his hands as he howled openly, and Jean bowed his head once more and drew a shaky breath.

"…Our Father …who art in heaven ….hallowed be thy name." Jean looked up and blinked rapidly through watery eyes to expel the stinging of the smoke as he continued, speaking low and slowly over the anguished cries of his suffering comrade. "Thy kingdom come… thy will be done… as…."

Jean trailed off as his eyes scanned the crowded street around them and stopped at the gleam of light off buttery blonde hair. He would've told himself he was imagining things, if it weren't for the hollering of Commissioner Roy Mustang -his commander while at war- shouting for his attention once their eyes connected. Words died on paralyzed vocal chords as Mustang worked his way past the crowd and through hazy air, finally coming into Jean's full focus as he realized that bright blue eyes pierced the orange glow around them before being obscured by his own tears. Roy eased Winry from his back instantly for her to carefully stand, favoring her body weight to one side so as to not further injure her ankle, and her own tears spilled of relief only to be replaced with crushing guilt at the sight of Edward. Too stunned to form words, Jean fought to shake Ed's shoulders and raise his head from his hands to no avail; Edward couldn't be reached through his devastation until a broken sob cut through the fury.

"Edward!"

Time slowed. Ed's breath seized in his chest, knowing what he'd heard but not allowing himself to believe until Winry's small gasps and sobs filled his ears, and when gold eyes met blue he no longer controlled his own body. He didn't feel his sore muscles power himself up, had no awareness of himself surging toward her, and the world around them fell away; the crowds, the flames, the wailing sirens, gone to suspend them in beautiful silence as he found themselves wrapped in each other, the force of the collision bringing them to their knees. Hearts hammering, eyes glassy and exhausted, and they cried harder than they knew they could.

"What were you thinking?!" He hollered at her once his voice found purchase in his throat again. Winry couldn't stop crying, she simply pressed the book to his bare chest as her tears poured and Edward gaped at her, horrified.

"You… you STUPID…." He grabbed her face in his hands and cried, "You fucking _idiot!_ "

Winry could do nothing but cry, hating herself for what she'd reduced him to, yet never regretting her decision to go back. Edward ignored the book, his attention fully devoted to screaming at her.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU… I CAN'T…." He pulled her into his arms and sobbed. "…I love you, Winry…"

* * *

Spring settles over New York carefully. It tiptoes over winter without prior notice to quietly take it's place while no ones looking, and then one day city dwellers step outside and pause mid-stride in awe of the awakening beauty. The city breathes out a long-held sigh. Winter is over; spring brings new life and with it, new beginnings.

Never had this been more true than for Edward and Winry.

Frank Archer was arrested at the scene of the fire he'd started, too mechanically damaged from the fight with Edward to get away in a hurry, and too obsessed with seeing Winry and Ed die to walk away from his work. It was Mustang's digging into Archer's prison history that revealed the factory injury that warranted Frank receiving automail, although who had given Archer such a horrifying alteration was still a question that Roy intended to have Frank answer. When he connected the dots between Archer and the 'monster', he'd operated on a gut hunch that led him to Edward's burning building.

The building was a total loss, reduced to bricks with nothing left to salvage. Sheska, Greed, Envy and Havoc all dispersed to other shops and side jobs in efforts to keep working, while Edward stayed in Winry's apartment and spent long hours on the phone with his landlord and the insurance company. The hard-wired fire detectors in the studio were faulty, something Edward had no knowledge of and his landlord faced serious fines for.

The nights were quiet. Ed and Winry would lie on her mattress together, both struggling to sleep peacefully as their minds tried to process what they'd been through, and how close they'd come to losing everything. A new leaf would turn for them only a few days later, when Ed was summoned to a lawyer's office and was met with the somber faces of Noah's parents. The months following their daughter's overdose had been more than words could convey, and the news of Edward's latest loss prompted them to reach out with news.

"Noah had life insurance." Her mother told him. "It was left to us along with her remaining assets and we used some of it to cover the funeral costs. We want you to have the rest."

Edward sat in shocked silence. He'd never had bad blood with his former in-laws, but they'd mostly lost touch after the divorce and Nina's death. Staying in each others lives had become to painful.

"You've never had the chance to start over, not the way you should." Noah's father said. He shook Edward's hand firmly and Noah's mother hugged him. "You deserve that chance."

* * *

"Will you miss being near here?" Winry asked. She sat on the hard-packed ground with Edward at her side as she pulled weeds from around Nina's gravestone. Edward considered her question for a moment before a small smile curved the corner of his mouth.

"I think it's time for a change. Time to break away." He said. He'd visited Nina's grave everyday since the fire at Alchemy, trying to make up for the time he'd missed. "I'll still come back once a week, but I need a little distance from the last few months."

Winry nodded as she placed the daisies she'd brought at Nina's stone and they stood to leave. The warm sun settled on Winry's exposed skin —the sundress she wore featured the open back she'd dreamed of— and Edward smiled at the sight of his work, the tattoo that healed her and brought them together.

"What are you grinning about?" She smirked, catching Edward by surprise as she took his hand.

"I'm just wondering who did your amazing back piece. He must be the greatest artist in the city or something."

The exited the churchyard and walked south toward Tribeca.

"He's pretty great," Winry played. "I heard he's opening a new studio downtown. Maybe I'll go in for another piece."

They stopped on a quiet corner while waiting for the walk signal and Edward turned to face her.

"Where will you get it? Here?" He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder, "Or maybe here?"

He moved and pressed his mouth just below her ear, and felt her smile as her arms slid around his neck.

"Maybe you can help me decide when we get home."

Edward's mouth brushed over hers,

"Think of the possibilities."

* * *

A/N: There are not enough ways for me to thank you all for your patience and dedication to me and to this story. This was a struggle. The past year has been an immense struggle I did not see coming but you've been here with kind words, pushing me forward with your encouragement and it's been beautiful. This story was so difficult to write but I'm extremely proud of it all the same, and I'm glad to have pushed myself as a writer and experienced something new.

As for my next story, its in development and I'm so so excited to share it with you all. As the old saying goes, 'write what you know'. Well, for the better part of a year I've become acquainted with some crushing blows, and they will be heavily drawn from for inspiration in my next story. It will be dark, but it will be beautiful and it will be worth it.

Until then, thank you all, and see you soon.

.C


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